I guess love’s a funny thing—the way it fades away without a warning.
It doesn’t ask to be excused.
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I remember those nights
I couldn’t get through to you when quiet storms came rattled the window panes
Couldn’t keep a thing the same way when the storm blew in and the furniture rearranged
I can see lightning there and a funnel cloud
And her mother said “I swear I saw lightning in your eyes
When that call got through to the other side.”
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I want to let go.

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