| Disconnecting veins in an effort to release my tragedy
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| All that we leave behind is misery
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| And my disease is a sanctuary
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| A curse that unfolds like a novel
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| But I’d sooner slit my wrists with the first page
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| I find it hard to feel alive
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| While my heart beats in borrowed time
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| The cadence that I’ve kept confined
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| Existing only in the black behind my eyes
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| Not worthy of a memory
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| Deny all grief and force yourself to forget me
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| Don’t allow my ghost to linger any longer than it has
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| Let my spirit breathe, I’ve finally found peace
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| Allow me to exist only in the empty spaces between breaths
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| In the margin of each exhale that you’re sure that you have left
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| Be mindful of the way speaking my name could leave a poison on your lips
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| And the ache that binds your bones will be my parting gift
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| A grave unfit to bear the blame
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| Pale limbs like flowers to be tied in a bouquet
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| That the soil refused to cultivate
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| To be born, to live, to die, rotting away
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| There’s nothing to be done
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| I can’t be saved
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| I find it hard to feel alive
|
| While my heart beats in borrowed time
|
| The cadence that I’ve kept confined
|
| Existing only in the black behind my eyes
|
| Not worthy of a memory
|
| Deny all grief and force yourself to forget me
|
| Don’t allow my ghost to linger any longer than it has
|
| Let my spirit breathe, I’ve finally found peace |