| Feels like I am spreading a disease
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| I may be the holder of a plague
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| I need of a pacemaker cause my blood runs out of beat
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| And I can’t live with it
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| It takes some to build one
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| But it’s easier to tear it down
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| With bare hands I dig a hole
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| But it gets to small
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| The lies I tell hurts as much
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| As telling the truth
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| The seal is too hard to brake
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| Slow as a snail I leave
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| I’m not like a larva that transform into beauty
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| I crawl through the slime I’ve made
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| I’ll stay on the ground and still be ugly
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| Are you confident when you curl up in bed
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| Or are you tired or full of hope
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| Do you save and fold the threads
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| Do you stop or go ahead
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| My life water and my honey tree
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| I need the nectar, not a stinging bee
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| The guidance is gone — alone from now on
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| I pack my bags to meet oblivion
|
| Slow as a snail I leave
|
| I’m not like a larva that transform into beauty
|
| I crawl through the slime I’ve made
|
| I’ll stay on the ground and still be ugly
|
| Slow as a snail I leave
|
| I’m not like a larva that transform into beauty
|
| I crawl through the slime I’ve made
|
| I’ll stay on the ground and still be ugly
|
| To whom do you confide when you curl up in bed |