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The wind is cold tonight
Or so I am told
I don't really know
As I kill my light
There's nothing left to show
How does that blow hit you
And if I change, am I denying what was said?
If I remain the same, am I creating greater problems instead?
Do you ever think you've been thought about?
Do you still believe we need to sort things out?
Does it matter now, all those things we said?
I want to know, can I still creep into your bed at night
And leave your head alone?
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