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Casanova Lament

I check that I've got all my things before I leave the house,
Because when I'm gone I'm never coming back.
I'm not being melodramatic, it's just I neither have your number or a key.
An evening spent pretending that we're just becoming friends,
Or this goes any further than going back;
I'm not being pessimistic, it's just you and I were never meant to be.
It isn't love, but every time I kind of wish it was.
I've picked up this silly habit in the last few years of going out
In the evening with my friends into the town,
Of packing a spare T-shirt in my bag in case I do not make it home.
It's pathetic and I know it, but the truth is there've been mornings

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