| I just need a moment to myself.
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| I’ve been writing open letters in a life of writer’s block.
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| Make me see. |
| Make me feel.
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| A cage or a coma, the pen and ink is therapy.
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| I counted every single sign You revealed to me.
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| His presence is near but it’s myself I fear.
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| It’s myself I fear.
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| Page after page, line after line,
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| I’m running out of things to say. |
| I’m running out of time.
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| My hands keep on writing but nothing makes any sense.
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| Any sense.
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| These words on paper, they’ve all been said before.
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| Speak through me. |
| I’ll trust You like a torch.
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| Now watch me burn.
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| Now watch me burn.
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| Now watch me burn.
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| As patience and the pendulum fought through the night,
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| My frustration buries me.
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| Page after page, line after line,
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| I’m running out of things to say. |
| I’m running out of time.
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| My hands keep on writing but nothing makes any sense.
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| Any sense.
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| The words keep on coming but everything seems to blend.
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| Seems to blend.
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| I’ve tried so hard to write about being real,
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| That I think I’ve forgotten how to feel.
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| Prisoner. |
| Prisoner. |
| Captive by words I can’t write.
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| Prisoner. |
| Prisoner. |
| Shepard me with Your light.
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| If I’m being honest, it’s hard to be honest with You.
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| I’ll be transparent, but it’s so hard to follow through.
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| If I write down my darkest desires,
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| If I reveal the things my mind conspires,
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| Would You still love me?
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| Would You still love me?
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| I’ll open up like a worn out old book.
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| I’ll open up with feelings I overlook.
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| Would You still love me?
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| Would You still love me? |