| My psych says I’m a rescuer
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| An empathetic victim
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| For taking on my partner’s shit
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| 'Cause I sit there and listen
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| I tend to ignore warning signs
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| 'Cause I don’t want to see them
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| And she says that’s because of
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| My interior demeanor
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| Give it time, give it time, give it time
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| You’ll be fine, you’ll be fine, you’ll be fine
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| I can’t see any way
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| Out of this head space
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| I enter my appointments
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| Greeted by a box of tissues
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| An hour is too short a time
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| To get through all my issues
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| My problems are so minuscule
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| In terms of the big picture
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| But I have lost control
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| Of my emotional convictions
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| Give it time, give it time, give it time
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| You’ll be fine, you’ll be fine, you’ll be fine
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| I can’t see any way
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| Out of this head space
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| I’m here on referral
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| I just want to work through
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| Things with someone I don’t know
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| I don’t need a prescription
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| But my disposition
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| Has never been so low
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| I struggle to assert myself
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| So I suppress and censor
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| But gradually it boils up
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| And starts to drive me mental
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| I’ve noticed my relationships
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| All follow this trajectory
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| I love you till the day I die
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| Until it is too much for me
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| Give it time, give it time, give it time
|
| You’ll be fine, you’ll be fine, you’ll be fine
|
| I can’t see any way
|
| Out of this head space
|
| Give it time, give it time, give it time
|
| You’ll be fine, you’ll be fine, you’ll be fine
|
| I can’t see any way
|
| Out of this head space |