The last grape on the vine
It's so fucking hard to find
Now I know, now I know
You're Mine
You died on Broadway
You're a broad anyway
New York busy streets
Filled with love and cold bodies
And I hear The Liberty
Is like home, like home
These smile lines are compromises
That I fill with nervous laughs
Things I thought but didn't say
And moments that I'll never get back
And when I'm out I'm holed up in my own head
Cause I find that my better times
Are spent when I'm alone instead
A slave to the cage of my skull
I don't want to care, I don't want to care
New York busy streets
Filled with love and cold bodies
And I hear The Liberty
Is like home, like home
And I hear The Liberty
Is like home, like home
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