| The view outside my window changed a lot since I was a child
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| Like all the years we buried, vanishing forever
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| Cause also grief is just love with no place to go
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| Like all the years we buried, this place is death
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| There’s a thing you should know about me
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| I am and have always been this deeply sad man
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| So, I am both, laughing and crying at the same time
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| And still trying to discover how that could be
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| I’m pretty sure growing old will kill me
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| Slowly, but steadily, in two different ways
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| As I’m still the one with the saddest smile
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| I hate being bipolar, it’s fucking awesome
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| The firstborn died by his own hands
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| My oldest friend found a rope that bore
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| And I know I’ll definitely also not die
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| By staring out in the pouring rain
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| Nobody ever tells you that emptiness weighs most
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| When there’s a void inside that can’t be filled
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| Cause it’s not a single stab wound that kills me
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| It’s a thousand paper cuts on every single day
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| The heart dies a slow death
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| And all our dreams dash fast
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| But I wonder if you changed your minds
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| The moment you knew you’d die
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| And I’m totally aware that my pain
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| Is nothing when compared to yours
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| But cleaning out your apartment
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| Was way harder than your funeral
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| One more psychosis then I am also finally done
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| Cause the more I sleep, the less I dream
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| And then at night I drink and clean my gun
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| It’s me who should be dead, not you |