| Your evil eyes with your glass shaped prize
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| You smell of smoke with your dirty clothes
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| We’re all afraid of your twelve-step stage
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| You lose control and you won’t let go
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| You say we’re weak, but you can’t even speak
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| You scream your words and they don’t flow
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| Your killer rage feels so much pain
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| You’re one last tick of a time bomb
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| And I’ll someday I will
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| Bleed the story of
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| The times you took from me
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| And I will bleed the story of
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| The youth you wasted me
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| I finalize that one last time I’ve gone away and found my home
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| You feel ashamed for the life you claim
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| We’ve said goodbye and you’re all alone
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| You compromise with the letters you write
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| But ink is dry and we’re way too strong
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| You give a rose for the stones you’ve thrown
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| And that’s a shame 'cause you’re to late
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| And I run on, run on, run on, run on out
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| 'Cause I don’t want to be that way
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| Running from the things I’ve seen running from the name of shame
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| My silver eyes with my brand new life
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| The memory stays as I go on
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| And all the seams that were ripped from me have bound their strands
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| And I’ll do no harm
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| And someday I’ll find a way to trade that pain
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| And all that’s wrong about a man who raised his hand
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| And I can’t get that out my head |