| Most days I spend asleep
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| Like a barren tree, I’m begging for the sun
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| So when all is said and done I leave my house at 6 PM
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| With my headphones buried deep
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| The fox is looming with intent and sinking deeper into everything I do
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| I head right on Wilson Avenue
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| Skin splitting from the cold as I proceed in senseless disassociation
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| I keep my distance from strangers
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| I don’t wanna scare them
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| I don’t think I’m scary
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| But that’s not for me to say
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| It’s like kleptomania
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| And I don’t wanna face it
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| I’m just stealing from myself
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| And I don’t think that’ll change
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| It’s just hard to care
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| When you feel like you have no control over your thoughts
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| And it’s been eating at you for much longr than you can know
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| One of the many things we don’t show
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| I’d lov to spill my guts, that’s called oversharing
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| And it’s something we don’t do
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| I’ve lost touch with half my family
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| And old friends have moved away
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| It’s guaranteed depreciation
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| I keep my distance from strangers
|
| I don’t wanna scare them
|
| I don’t think I’m scary
|
| But that’s not for me to say
|
| It’s like kleptomania
|
| And I don’t wanna face it
|
| I’m just stealing from myself
|
| And I don’t think that’ll change
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| Getting by just fine
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| Walking on this straight line that’s wrapped around my neck
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| This coiled up double «S» is creeping in more everyday
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| Flashes of pulling the trigger will flicker and spark 'til I’m in flames
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| I just hate how shame can be so silent
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| I keep my distance from strangers
|
| I don’t wanna scare them
|
| I don’t think I’m scary
|
| But that’s not for me to say
|
| It’s like kleptomania
|
| And I don’t wanna face it
|
| I’m just stealing from myself
|
| And I don’t think that’ll change |