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The Walkmen
stop talking
My handsCome together
And I draw in the breath through my teeth
Your curt shots
Sarcastic remarks
Come so often
Theyâ??re never sincere
Darker amusement sets in
Thatâ??s the problem
Youâ??re saying something and my eyes
Open wider
And we grin and we stare at the floor
Your jokes missed
Your hands grow to fists
And your lips purse
Expecting the worst
With every word
Thatâ??s how it started
Thatâ??s the problem
And after weâ??re done
I can still feel your eyes on my forehead
And after weâ??re done
I can still feel the pain in my free time