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Fuck Her, or the Terrorists Win



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Fuck Her, or the Terrorists Win

Ghosts

Isabella was a girl with whom I never got too far.
Although she took me in her arms, and when she did I fell apart.
I saw her on a wednesday, but met her on a friday night
amongst two-hundred people in the middle of an open bar.
It took me thirty minutes, five beers, to work the courage up.
But the minute I approached her I forgot about my broken heart.
We talked about two hours, but we both knew right off the bat;
So when we kissed it felt like nothing more could be so right.
Thirty minutes later she said: 'Oh my, look at the time.'
I didn't have a cell-phone, so I told her: 'Write my number down.'
We kissed another moment, and when it came to say goodbye
I didn't want to do it, so I told her we should spend the night.
She took out a dime and said: 'It ain't up to me:
tails you go home, heads you come with me.'
She flipped it in the air and caught it, I just closed my eyes,
and when I opened them she had such a disappointing frown.
She got into a cab, and drove into the starry night,
and everything was perfect, at least until she never called.
So then I try to find her, but never seem to get far;
'Cause when I met her I was drunk and thought her name was Anne.

Cut to a year later: I find out my mistake,
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When we get together it's like we never left.
We end up in my bedroom, no coin to stop us there.
She kisses like tomorrow is never gonna come,
but then some words of sorrow just bring us to a stop.
She says she's got to go and won't be back for long.

So I turned into a ghost,
that lingers in this world
because of the memories
she held on to and never let go.
We could've been together,
but we were to caught up in
hiding out from our ghosts,
that linger in this world
because of the memories
we hold on to and never let go.
The minute I surrender
to pain I'll just forget us,
and I'll turn into a ghost.