vieux, vieux

October 19, 2009
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bright lights, old cobble stone
i can feel the city in my bones
it presses against my head and chest
imaginary heat in the cheap cab seat
and i think i miss you best

walk on your knees, say a prayer for me
each one you'll rise eternally
maybe when i come back home again
i won't drive past your empty house
or remember a thing you said

vieux, vieux
clasped hands
vieux, vieux
maybe we're not friends

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