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(Is it living in the city
That turned your heart so small?)
I don't ask you anything
I never talk to you
So don't ask me anything
You know nothing about me
There's a hole in my chest
I swear, I'll throw up in my hands
I don't even care about sex no more
I wanna do things with innocence
Be thankful for the air you breathe
The roof over your head
And the light that comes in
You say, "Be thankful for your friends"
Well, I'm thankful for the self-doubt
In which I do nothing but fall
The same place you filled with
Piss and alcohol
Not my duty to give you shelter
Not my duty to give you hope
Does living in the city mean
Your heart turns dark and small?
Is it living in the city
That turned my heart so small?
Is it living in the city
That turned my heart so cold?
Is it living in the city
That turned my heart so blue?
Is it living in the city
In the ambulance, is it you?
(Is it living in the city
That turned your heart so blue?)
Ah, some beggars beg in every language
Man fear death in every language
And wait the end of their lives to try
The best parts of themselves
So I don't make suggestions, no
Even when I know
What you should say
Where you should start with to find
What you've been looking for
And it's the guilt, of course
'Cause I was raised Catholic
And they teach you it's bad form to think
Man is a piece of shit
Die, die, die of safety
I might just fall into despair
And then how will you console me?
You can't even console yourself
Is it living in the city
That turned my heart so small?
Is it living in the city
That turned my heart so cold?
Is it living in the city
That turned my heart so blue?
Is it living in the city
In the ambulance, is it you?
(Is it living in the city
Is it living in the city
That turned your heart so cold?)
It's living in the city (Is it living in the city?)
(That turned your heart so blue?)
It's living in the city (Is it living in the city?)
Writer(s): Camille Berthomier, Nicolas Conge
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