Our Time Lyrics
Lyricist- John Hiatt
Artist- John Hiatt
Album-Same Old Man
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.I traced your arms
As you laid spread out on the Sunday paper>
Looked like the crime scene of an angel ghost
I heard the gate clatter to on the elevator>
I wrapped myself up in it, like a cold beef roast
Fell asleep, was cooked medium
Placed on a dinner room table in Brooklyn<.>
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