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par Mark Lanegan
Love there are flowers hanging in the vine
So high you cannot see
Now my mind must go on holiday, torn from it´s hook, a broken valentine
I see the smoke from a revolver, will I get hit, I hardly care
When I´m bombed I stretch like bubblegum
And look too long straight at the morning sun
Love there are flowers along the avenue, all things perfectly in place
I build a shrine
I set a monument
Because you´re fire
Because you´re a fire escape
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