| King of the hill that once has been
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| Now just a ghost in the machine
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| In a game where the end keeps justifying the means
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| The backs are stabbed, the throats are cut
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| All rules have been wiped clean
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| Like a re-run of a show seen way too many times before
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| You forget some of the twists, but the end you know for sure
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| It’s painted up so bright and big
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| Like something that’s worth dying for
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| Don’t it hurt when those who hailed start to ignore
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| Your empty words don’t mean a thing to me
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| I take my finger off the pulse leading the blind
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| Barbwire promises, I’m leaving you behind
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| Barbwire promises
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| My song is wrapped in barbwire
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| And the wrapping’s done by you
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| I watch you choke all that inspire, you’re narrowing my view
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| Hands tied behind my back
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| I sit and take these soothing sounds
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| Not able to relax until the red-eye's off the ground
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| Your empty words don’t mean a thing to me
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| I take my finger off the pulse leading the blind
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| Barbwire promises, I’m leaving you behind
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| Barbwire promises
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| Barbwire promises |