| We received our bloody circles in the mail
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| Only see what’s really important when it’s nailed
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| As a teen, my Lord and savior was a male
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| Tire trucks and six steel strings that keep me frail
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| It’s the worst I’ve ever felt when it hails
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| Broken teeth and bloody nose but least it snowed
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| Instantly tried, oh, I cried and cut a line
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| And my eyebrow acted like the boys who tell
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| And my teacher told me that this made her sad
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| Had to act just like the others to get around
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| Friday nights alone in heaven with my board
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| Like, growing up I have always heard or like, I was always hyperaware of
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| The things that the people around me who were charged with my care
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| Or told me, like, be silent or be quiet
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| Or be ashamed or hide
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| Or perform a version of myself that wasn’t really me
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| And so, I think that through my life I’ve always been hyperconscious and aware
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| of not going into spaces and seeking too much attention
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| Um, because part of survival is, like, being able to just fit in
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| To be seen as normal and to, like, quote-unquote belong
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| But I think that so often in society in order to belong means that we have to,
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| like, shrink parts of ourselves |