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Riding Home

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I'm stuck in this cell of rubber and metal
My skin sticking to the hot black leather
I’m fighting with you once again
Across my waist and chest I’m tethered

You sitting there with your bouncing curls
And me with pin straight hair
Though we act nothing like one another
People still think we are a pair

I see freedom to my right and straight ahead
But my binds still hold me tight
You aren't listening to what I say
To you, I’m wrong; your right

You won't let it go, you don't know how
I become your audience, that’s all I do
My fingers woven like we used to be
But now, please stop, I beg of you



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