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| einn, tveir, þrír, fjórir..of monsters and men |

Posted: Mai 2nd, 2012 | Author: | Filed under: sound, word | No Comments »

maybe i’m a crook for stealing your heart away
and maybe i’m a crook for not caring for it
and maybe i’m a bad, bad, bad, bad person
well baby, i know

so i think it’s best we both forget before we dwell on it
the way you held me so tight all through the night
it was near morning

because you love, love, love when you know i can’t love
you love, love, love when you know i can’t love
you love, love, love when you know i can’t love, you…

and these fingertips, they’ll never run through your skin
those bright blue eyes can only meet mine across a room
filled with people that are less important than you

because you love, love, love when you know i can’t love
you love, love, love when you know i can’t love
you love, love, love when you know i can’t love, you…

 



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