| I’m not into false feelin’s of self-pity
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| And I don’t cry that much
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| But I feel like a cripple
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| Little orphan that’s lost his little crutch
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| Isn’t it true she’s lyin' suicidal fool
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| Always testin' her luck
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| And when I’m with her
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| I wanna be without her again
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| As soon as I can before I get stuck
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| Need her to make my life more complicated
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| Need her to get myself all constipated
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| Need her like a knife stickin' in my back
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| Need her to get me off the right track
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| I need her chokin' me to the death
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| Missles and rockets hidden in her pockets
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| And I’m tryin' to stay out a range
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| But she says I’m an amateuristic son of a bitch
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| And she scores another point again
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| When she slams the door behind her
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| And I know I won’t see her for at least another month or so
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| My blood starts boilin' and I feel like screamin'
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| That I goddamn need her so
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| But when I’m with her
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| I wanna be without her again
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| As soon as I can
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| That’s the way it always goes with Anita |