| Caught in a dream
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| But never come home
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| Always around the corner
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| Another corner waits
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| Caught in…
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| You could say i’m an avante-gard composer
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| Cuz there aren’t any notes in a single one of my note books
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| As soon as i find a way to play these reams of sheet music
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| With an instrument that’s new and uses a scale of crossed out words
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| Regret and embarresment instead of guitar chords
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| And i’m sure it’s just a matter of seconds
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| Before i’m rich on MTV, pack th place with kids
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| To sing my songs with, and bite their tounges along with me
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| I never got a messege in a dream
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| I’ve come back but never come home
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| Always around the corner
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| Another corner waits
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| Caught in…
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| This was supposed to be a release
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| And now it’s quiete easily the most stressful piece of my existence
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| My trip overseas, i was scared shitless
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| The second time only felt an overpowering indifference
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| Now my third is iminent, and i just feel sick
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| I’m the guy in the doctor’s office
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| «doctor, it hurts when i do this»
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| You weigh less than your own shaddow
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| I was barely a stick to start with
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| Now i’m outdone by the sum
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| Of all the splinters i’ve discarded
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| And none of my friends know who i am, it’s our arrangement
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| I kept cex at arm’s length to try and keep the real ryan safe
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| For every dodgeball thrown, every night with cameras rolling
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| There’s bright lines drawn around all of the shit we leave unspoken
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| My confessions could fill stadiums, but still
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| My heart’s buried under baltimore, and i think i’ve fogotten where
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| I could tear up the city trying find it but knowing myself
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| I’d just probably lie in the cavity with straw and disappear
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| I never got a messege in dreams
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| I’ve come back but never come home
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| Always, arond the corner another corner waits
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| Caught in perpetual low |