| I feel fine and I feel sick
|
| And it doesn’t work if you can’t split it down the middle
|
| My dad died when I was young
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| From the blood filling up his lungs
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| Does that make me proud?
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| Or just give me another reason just to drop out?
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| 'Cause when the tough get going
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| Then I may as well be gone
|
| And I feel fine and I feel sick!
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| Goddamn, I knew that you once said it around his finger
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| My friends lie and say I’ll be all right
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| But they don’t know how I sleep at night, oh no
|
| Does that make me proud?
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| Just lying there and sinking into self doubt?
|
| 'Cause when the tough get going
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| Sometimes I wish that I was gone
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| But I never lied to you
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| I just bent the truth a little bit
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| I never told you he was the
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| Worst damned thing I ever met
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| I know you told me dying was
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| An honest man’s job
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| I’m so scared I’ll live a million years
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| For the things that I have done
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| But I never lied to you
|
| I just bent the truth a little bit
|
| I never told you he was the
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| Worst damned thing I ever met
|
| And I could’ve told you things
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| That would make you spin
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| Make you turn around and
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| Turn away from him to me, to me
|
| Turn around to me |