6 min reading
Pulp - Like A Friend
Don't bother saying you're sorry.
Why don't you come in?
Smoke all my cigarettes again.
Every time I get no further.
How long has it been?
Come on in now,
Wipe your feet on my dreams.
You take up my time,
Like some cheap magazine,
When I could have been learning something.
Oh well, you know what I mean. ...
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