| I look at life through a window covered with dirt
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| Crack down the middle covered with blood on my shirt
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| I’m tired of thinking about what shouldn’t and what should
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| Looking up at God in heaven like what’s good?
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| So now I’m flyng through time with no co-pilot
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| You took my brother too soon so now I’m pro-violent
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| No silence, pop shots to break up the peace
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| Alert the world to my presence and wake up the streets
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| Ain’t no return from the finish
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| Turn into a spirit in heaven or drop in hell and burn with critics
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| Either way we gotta go, like either being born or dying
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| You still spending alot of dough
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| Growing old is no end to pain
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| It’s only extended strain of going through the cold november rain
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| The lady from church said the end is near
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| And I’d like to think before that happen God can lend an ear
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| Are you even listening to me?
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| Or is this What it is to be?
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| Are you even listening to me?
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| Or are you just visiting me?
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| Are you even listening to me?
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| Or is this What it is to be?
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| Are you even listening to me?
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| You would think after all that I’ve been through
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| The light at the end of the tunnel is in a good view
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| But the more I walk forward, the further it gets
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| I’m burning in sweats sending concerns when I’m hurting in stretch
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| I push my fingers to my eyes to stop the aiche
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| Tighten the slipknot, now I’m hanging to seal my fate
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| I walk through heaven’s gate strapped like a terrorist
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| I got a score to settle, draw the metal and never miss
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| Either float in happiness or drown in sorrow
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| Wallow in the sea of hate, follow at a demons rate
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| The rain of unnecessary pain and I walk in my temporary flesh
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| With a temporary brain
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| Like John Nash they won’t leave my beautiful mind
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| A suitable rhyme of pessimists with brutal designs
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| Who will you find to fill in once I’m taken away
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| I cling to the earth with all my might scraping to stay |