| I’ll be writing till I’m dead or maybe till I’m alive
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| All the emptiness I’ve bled has only helped me survive
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| Something melted inside when the tones hit my pulse
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| And stifled the idle eagerness to grow into my clothes
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| No one that I know is any longer good at actin'
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| Like they comprehend the motive uncoated to feed the corroded passion
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| Actually needs to stay eye level with the rest
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| That’s the least I deserve for the love that I’ve shed
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| I’ve trudged through the sediment in search of the rhythm
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| Dove soul first to bathe nude in its abyss
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| Paid dues and made music my religion
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| Now I listen, close my eyes, and forget I even exist
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| I sing a bastard’s tune, inspired by the noise
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| The ship made before it sank and was finally destroyed
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| I flaunt the grin of a man made for disguising a boy
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| Who tried to avoid showing the cry in his voice
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| But there’s something special about the notes that he hears
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| Those scales are redemption, unraveling repressed memories
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| And when he breathes, a new energy enters and consumes him
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| To heal his wounds and unseal his doom
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| If only I could make you understand
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| But words are just words so I can’t
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| The universe’s deepest art form keeps my heart warm with influence
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| I tell ya Ain’t nothing quite as beautiful as Music
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| To be an angel, you gotta earn your wings
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| To control your own, you gotta burn your strings
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| To hit blackjack, you gotta turn a king
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| But to live forever, all you gotta do is learn to sing
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| I get a pleasure that’s inevitably immeasurable
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| And I won’t let it be rejected by no man
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| Why does it have to be so damn difficult
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| To live in the frame of a game that will slit your throat?
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| But I’ve dug in the mud in search of the drum
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| Dove soul first to bathe nude in its abyss
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| Stayed true to the music, now my favorite thing to do is
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| Close my eyes and forget that I even exist
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| I hold this fistful of degenerate ideas
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| For every genius that was murdered in the name of Jesus
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| Still deaf to the bells that claimed to free us But I pay homage to my melody Ђ?cause she’s the sweetest
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| The core of our spirit is naked
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| The form of its lyrics are sacred
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| Blanketed by the original sound of the inner vibrations
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| I’m floating on the soft clouds of positive creation
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| See, I can look at a painting and admire the colors
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| Or appreciate any type of art that I discover
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| But what I dig’s invisible
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| It’s my teacher and I’m its student
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| I tell ya Ain’t nothing quite as beautiful as Music |