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Too Many Blues

Beck

I have many blues
But these are my main blues
'Cause of the things you do
I get these blues from you
If I could write a book
You'd burn and let it cook
If I could duck and hide
You would bite off my thigh
I got a collection
Of constant rejection
I try not to mention
Your bad intention
You don't have a cure
Your life is too secure
My life is still a blur
I didn't know what you were
But I'm happy to tell it
You probably smell it
Smoke from a burning pan
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