| You don’t hear footsteps on the ceiling
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| Or get a strange sinking feeling
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| There’s no bodies buried under boards
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| You know I am the one who opened all the drawers
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| The only thing that haunts this house
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| Haunts this house is me
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| When I say two words, three times
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| The reflection’s always mine
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| The only thing that haunts
|
| The only thing that haunts this house is me
|
| Father looks at me, differently
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| And I’ll still wonder why no one wants my name on the lease
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| Life’s fleeting they say, I’m just depressing these days
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| Got me acting like a sprinkler in the rain
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| The only thing that haunts this house
|
| Haunts this house is me
|
| When I say two words, three times
|
| The reflection’s always mine
|
| The only thing that haunts
|
| The only thing that haunts this house is me
|
| I use metaphors to write about
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| What I really should, should say aloud
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| Wish I could piss on a strip to see
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| What’s really going on inside of me |