| My ears are ringing, it’s like children singing or humming
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| I’m numb and I’m thinking it’s nothing
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| I’m confused by the booze and medication
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| It’s modern-day meditation
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| My generation sees that combination as an expectation
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| Half-done, I’m moving in slo-mo
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| Through an imitation of life, it’s like an illustration or a photo
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| But the perspective ain’t right
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| It’s like the lights cast by a yo-yo in midflight
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| It’s too bright, I’m confused and lost
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| I feel transparent and barren and used
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| Like a red herring tossed and forced in my own thoughts with no bearing
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| Black to light, back to life and I breathe in
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| I sit up, I’m light headed, the world is out of focus
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| I know this, I try to get up, I instantly regret it
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| I spit up, I don’t get it, the glow, the world looks overexposed
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| Or like a negative with shadows where the colours should go and vice versa
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| I’m thrown by the ring of the phone like inertia
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| Flown like a cyclone, head spinning
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| Still blown from the beginning, I’m sitting in front of my body
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| Now on the bed, dead grinning, a red linen, brain spilling
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| Conflicted, the wounds looks self-inflicted like it’s scripted
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| A knock on the door, I feel distant like staring backwards
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| Through binoculars, inconsistent, the picture fades
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| I’m non-existent but I’m persistent, I wanna stay!
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| You can’t see me this way, I love you momma!
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| Aw shit, what the fuck did I walk into?
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| My man’s a bloody mess up in his room, he cut his flesh
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| Drugged up like Hunter S., must’ve been under stress
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| Nonetheless he flunked the test, succumbing to life’s ugliness
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| A gun to his chest and head, a knife to his wrists, he bled
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| Twisted lead’s fucked him up like his sister said
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| Plus Erica left him for some war on terror veteran
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| Now he’s dying in the bed they never slept in
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| I crept in and saw the blood on the hand that his writing pen was kept in
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| That his medical depression was prepped in
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| Suicide, glazed over as poetic expression, a valiant effort
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| I had the chance to step in but said, «F it»
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| Dawg, why’d you do this to us? |
| You know what this crew is to us
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| Your mom tried this shit in ‘91 now she’s dialing 911
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| I think your time has come, this being the top one
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| Dumbest things you ever done
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| I know your life is erased, no one ever could have won
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| You’d rather dream than live now my head is hung |