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Riding Home
I'm stuck in this cell of rubber and metal
 My skin sticking to the hot black leather
 I’m fighting with you once again
 Across my waist and chest I’m tethered
 
 You sitting there with your bouncing curls
 And me with pin straight hair
 Though we act nothing like one another
 People still think we are a pair
 
 I see freedom to my right and straight ahead
 But my binds still hold me tight
 You aren't listening to what I say
 To you, I’m wrong; your right
 
 You won't let it go, you don't know how
 I become your audience, that’s all I do
 My fingers woven like we used to be
 But now, please stop, I beg of you
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