| I got me a shovel and I’m digging a ditch
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| And I’m gonna fight for this four square feet of land
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| Like a mean old son of a bitch
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| I got me a future, I’m not stuck on the past
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| I got no new tricks, yeah, I’m up on bricks
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| But me, I’m a machine and I was built to last
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| I’m trying to get better 'cause I haven’t been my best
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| She took a plain black marker, started writing on my chest
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| She drew a line across the middle of my broken heart
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| And said «Come on now, let’s fix this mess»
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| We could get better because we’re not dead yet
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| They threw me a whirlwind and I spat back the sea
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| I took a battering but I’ve got thicker skin
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| And the best people I know are looking out for me
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| So I’m taking the high road, my engine’s running high and fine
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| May I always see the road rising up to meet me
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| And my enemies defeated in the mirror behind
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| I’m trying to get better 'cause I haven’t been my best
|
| She took a plain black marker, started writing on my chest
|
| She drew a line across the middle of my broken heart
|
| And said «Come on now, let’s fix this mess»
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| We could get better because we’re not dead yet
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| It’s just a knot in the small of your back
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| You could work it out with your fingers
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| It’s just a tune that got stuck in your head
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| You could work it out with your fingers
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| It’s just some numbers tangled up in your sums
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| You could work it out with your fingers
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| It’s just a simple Braille missive from the person you miss
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| A reminder you could always be a little bit better than this
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| So try and get better and don’t ever accept less
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| Take a plain black marker and write this on your chest
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| Draw a line underneath all of this unhappiness
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| Come on now, let’s fix this mess
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| We could get better because we’re not dead yet |