| To all those who acquiesced these scars
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| Just because they loved the person holding the knife:
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| It’s getting-even time… …for those I love, I’ll sacrifice…
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| And I’ll slit their throats with the knife they left in my back
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| Some say time heals
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| But I’m pretty sure that’s a lie
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| What they really mean
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| Is that you will eventually get used to the void
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| You will simply forget
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| Who you were without it
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| You’ll forget what you looked like
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| Without all these scars
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| You look like a winter night
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| My scars hold your dreams
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| I could sleep inside the cold of you
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| The hole in your heart that won’t close
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| Your breath resembles the kiss of death
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| Causing my thirst, holding these scars
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| Together we drank merely gangrene
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| Although without hesitation… …down in one…
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| You see, love could be labeled poison
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| Fuck it… …we would drink it anyway
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| Now this river will cleanse away our traces
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| May the bridges I burn light your way
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| Only the injured truly understand the wounded
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| Everything I touch turns into quicksand anyway
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| Sadly this life is my noose… …please hang me higher
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| I am this grave with a view… …the so-called void…
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| So why do you trouble yourself, my heart?
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| Maybe this wayfare will kill us
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| But weren’t we dying anyway?
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| …weren't we dying anyway?
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| Cause only the injured can truly understand the wounded
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| When everything they touch turns into quicksand
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| Sadly this life is their noose, come on hang them higher
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| We are this grave with a view… …we are… …this void…
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| Thousand miles down the river, thousand winters upstream
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| What were we expecting, what did we bide to signify?
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| You may have been here, but you left the place very early
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| So let me go, let me leave! |
| I never meant to stay anyway… |