I'm staring at the wall
your flavor on my lips
I'm watching and I'm counting
all you left me with
flies
I held your picture in the fan
I spilled your drink and your perfume
I share my love with those who join me
In this somber empty room
flies
I pressed the pillow on your face
You didn't want my sympathy
you kept your love for those who join you
seven feet beneath the trees
flies
A strong comment here is specific: the phrase you keep hearing, the mood you come back for, or the reason this song stays in rotation.
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