| I tried to be someone else to escape it all
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| It became an obsession, and I awoke in a world divorced from self;
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| A false reimagining of which I am the subject
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| Shrouded in abstract conceptual intangibles
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| I know that I’m broken, and I play the part
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| Why try to get better? |
| I was born to tear myself apart
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| This lifelong dissonance, how could it mean nothing?
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| I become a concept inside of myself
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| All the failures of our fathers can’t define us
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| If all that weight fell on our shoulders, who could blame us?
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| I felt locked in a stigma beyond my control
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| And in my vulnerability, I am fed their words and I swallow them whole
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| Promised a way out, and I sign a contract
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| A widespread mandate to suppress doubt
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| And push it all inside: my endlessly lost heart
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| And raging mind, just keep it all inside
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| But the shame and trauma, how could it mean nothing?
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| It lives inside of me, rebuilds and restarts
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| All the failures of our fathers can’t define us
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| If all that weight fell on our shoulders, who could blame us?
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| Our anxieties and fears can’t control us
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| If all their thoughts fall on deaf ears
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| I erase these memories, and I try
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| To reconstruct myself to fit into this life
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| You might want to be someone else
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| But what good would that do though?
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| You might want to be someone else
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| But what good would that do though?
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| But what good would that do though?
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| If all this weight falls on your shoulders? |