| Here’s the thing with self-medicating
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| You live for the highs, you die from the aching
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| (Oh, how I enjoy the burn
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| Once it’s on there’s no return)
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| The rumours you’ve heard
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| Each one is true
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| The partying’s excessive, the methods all but new
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| (If it ain’t broke, don’t you fix it
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| No goddamn advice from the backseat)
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| Six-string razorcuts
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| Afterparty clusterfucks
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| Embracing the clichés, living the life
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| Think fast, look alive
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| These scars in my skin mark a time
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| And a place
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| A band of brothers
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| A punch in the face
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| (And I refuse to regret these
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| Fuck no, I refuse to regret these)
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| Not about to slow down the pace
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| To hold back would be a disgrace
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| (Ain't getting any younger here
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| Gotta get it all out before we disappear)
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| Sex N' Satan baby |