| I close my eyes a better man
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| Or imagine that I can imagine such a thing
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| And it goes on and on and on and on like that
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| Project myself into the air, and float in a weightless night
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| It’s better than sitting heavy backed, and sending waves of anxious hate into
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| the street, trying to shut down the stop lights
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| It isn’t real, but it feels real
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| It isn’t real, but it feels real
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| As I crane my neck to an emptiness (better than knowing nothing at all)
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| I feel in my chest (I know I know myself)
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| Cut my wrists, slit my throat, take this body and string it up
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| Cause I’ll never know
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| «I'm weak again, stay inside, hate everything.»
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| Well hey, that’s our lot. |
| And I’m already inside out
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| Cut my wrists, slit my throat, take this body and string it up
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| And I’ll never know what you said, because I’ll be fucking dead by then |