| I can’t, wrap my head around it
|
| Why you, keep on bringing up old shit?
|
| Taking, its toll on my health
|
| I don’t, feel like I can really be myself when I’m around you
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| Lest I want to face the side of you that I hate
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| Which in and of itself should really indicate
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| There is to some degree a certain sense of uncertainty
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| That you don’t fucking hate me
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| Why do I kid myself?
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| Why do I keep on pretending, there’s something
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| Worth even holding on to?
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| Worth holding on to
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| «Hey man, how have you been?
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| What’s up?
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| Haven’t seen you in months,» he says
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| And lights up a smoke
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| As I wonder how I’ll be made into the butt end of a joke
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| 'Cause that’s all I am these days
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| Begging for crumbs, at the edge of the cool kids table
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| Am I unstable?
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| Is there something, that I’m not getting?
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| Am I letting, go of a good friend?
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| Or was I, merely pretending the whole time?
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| Why do I kid myself?
|
| Why do I keep on pretending, there’s something
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| Worth even holding on to?
|
| Worth holding on to
|
| I’ll be just fine
|
| We’ll still cross paths from time to time |