| A calm rushes over me
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| As I picture my corpse, ill-fated with the faults I can’t escape
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| A sigh of relief, a sigh of relief used to signify the blight
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| That infects the last few fragments of my skull
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| Sometimes I swear I think that I’ll be fine
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| I’ve made up my mind, death is my birthright
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| I am a noose waiting to be tied
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| Still I try to elude the truth and embrace my disguise
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| Because this way of life takes its toll on mine
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| And I don’t want to be alive
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| Bury me breathing so I can watch myself decay
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| Bury me breathing so I can watch myself decay
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| So I can watch myself decay
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| We are stillborns by definition
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| But our pulse-infected wrists will disagree
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| We burden ourselves with intent and ambition
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| When we’ve accepted that all hope is lost
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| So dance past my lips and disperse
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| Leaving no trace of human condition
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| Our bodies blind the world with a sense of selflessness
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| That only a trained eye can see
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| You blame me for your blindness
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| Open your eyes
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| You blame me for your blindness
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| Open your eyes |