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This song is by Frank Turner and appears on the album England Keep My Bones (2011).

I was walking home to my house through the snow from the station
When Springsteen came clear in my headphones with a pertinent question
Oh is love really real and can any of us hope for redemption?
Or are we all merely biding our time down to the lonely conclusions?
Darling let me take your hand as I talk you through this
How loneliness edged into deep-seated psychosis
Lying awake in crowded hotel rooms focused on tape hiss,
With my failings laid clear on the ceiling
I don't think I can do this
I don't think I can do this

Well I tried so hard to not turn into my father
But if I only ever skip out his choices will I ever choose better?
Oh the sad truth is the grass it will always seem greener
So I left you alone in a restaurant in London in winter
You deserved better

Adam Trask is on my back and in my ears
And the sound comes clear and brings the awful truth
That I can't stand what I've done to you
And it's written clear in my diary
Today should have been our anniversary
And I'm far way and I'm far apart
And you're back home with a broken heart
And love is real and I can't escape
I only ever have myself to blame

These failures shift and save me in the night
Like a fever I can't break, try as I might
Wake me darling I need you to take me home
But I know in the end redemption is mine and mine alone

So if each of us is made up of a tally of mistakes and successes
Then the hour in that restaurant makes my score less than impressive
Oh, but each can be redeemed with the courage by which he confesses
So darling I miss you, your music and your musk and your kisses
I don't think I can do this

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