| Dear bad feeling, I’d say I’m through with you
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| Leave this body, go and find someone new,
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| Or retire, you’ve got no practical use
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| We show up flawed at the perfection assembly
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| Free handouts for the student bodies trembling
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| You can’t teach a lesson on a subject you’ve never experienced
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| And you can’t just write off these nightmares like
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| it’s a coincidence, it is not
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| With high fives, and back slaps, the stories they reenact
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| Now tell me, and be exact, how bad you want your virginity back
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| Disappointed treasure seekers dig a hole in your face
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| You can live with my strangers and the gallery opening is never
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| Sure as the sun rises at dawn I thought that bird would always sing to me
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| But this morning was a silent brick to the face dose of reality
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| Not another album soaked with liquor and gimmicks
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| You see it streams from my grey matter and I just spit it
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| Like broken knuckles courtesy bar fight
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| Another souvenir of the new york night life |