The Present by Marion
She seems a little lost, with nazi golden locks
She is drawn to my dirt, whenever I'm hurt
And need to be cured
This city never stops
We never do what we should
But when her laugh stops
We never do what we should
When our stops, that's what I really love
All I wanted was to give you something
That I thought you needed
We'll get through the night and survive for a while
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