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“Why, why so quiet?
Oh my, mysterious country singer?” she asked

My life, it’s a riot
I’m climbing barricades
In empty streets at night

When I’m down
Fighting shadows
Twenty-five postcards
In a box in my room

Telephone conversations
Gas slowly leaking out
Of a heart-shaped balloon

It’s a dangerous game
That I’m not sure
If I could keep playing for long
It’s a dangerous game
It’s a very fine line
And if one step is wrong
I have no cards to play
And that’s why
I’ve got nothing to say
I’ve got nothing to say

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