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Hey, Theresa Mae weâre still a long way from the start
Selling secrets just to pay our dues and play our parts
Cold September brings the oldest longing in my heart
Words are kicking up the dust upwind of where we are
But I love you more, I love you more
Like kick drums on your bedroom door
And I throw on some piece of mind
But you still ain't the salesman kind
Now weâre floundering like foals in brambles in the night
Now we're poking out our eyes to kill the end in sight
I would rather tell you yes than tell you that I might
I would rather tell you lies than give in to the flight
But I love you more, I love you more
Like kick drums on your bedroom door
And I throw on some piece of mind
But you still ain't the salesman kind
Theresa says the start can end in a bad way
When she sleeps the coyotes scream in her head
Theresa says the time has bled with our own weight
I canât find the hands to remind me that thereâs nothing in the way
But I want you more, I want you more
As if I'd never said before
And Iâll throw on some piece of mind
But you still ain't the salesman kind
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