Secrets
The Wooden Birds
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Staring out the glass of your tired sedan
Waiting at your door leaning up against the jamb
Going all the way
Singing my guitar
It's later I can't stay
The secrets of the heart
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On the study floor with the words in your hands
You pull the hairpin out, now
And down pour the strands
But you were a mistake
You can sing to my guitar
But it's late and I can't stay
The secrets of the heart