| A still lit cigarette brandishing silhouettes against a backdrop of regret.
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| She needs an escape.
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| I mean how much could she take.
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| My derision and hate.
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| I’m a sullen paperweight.
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| I’ll sit here as long as it takes until bouncers carry me away.
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| I’ll sit here looking for a sign at the bottom of this pint.
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| I got out of bed.
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| Unemotional, half-dead whiskey poured to clear the head of all the reasons that
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| she fled.
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| She needed escape.
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| I mean how much could she take of my inebriated states.
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| I’m a drunken paperweight.
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| I’ll sit here as long as it takes until bouncers carry me away.
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| I’ll sit here looking for a sign at the bottom of this pint.
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| I’m only looking for someone else to blame, some kind of scapegoat to shoulder
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| all this shame.
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| Another Sam Lager to help forget the days, forgetting myself in the shadow of
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| Fenway.
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| Will I ever get it right?
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| I’ll sit here as long as it takes until bouncers carry me away.
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| I’ll sit here looking for a sign at the bottom of this pint |