| Watching muscles ache from the stress in your back
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| Waiting for bones to break from the weight of what you lack.
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| I would spend all my time helping you find truth,
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| And it really cuts like a knife knowing I can’t save you.
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| Because saying goodbye hurts the worst when you know it’s the final word
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| It comes across like a curse and I can’t believe you said it first
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| So now the final word on the final page
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| of the final chapter of this narrative we made
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| Is my weak conscious whispering words through my mouth,
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| the very words I prayed would never come out.
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| I kept clinging onto the past and hoped the future would be the same,
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| We would cry and laugh knowing the past would not remain
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| And I would argue with God, every night I would lie awake
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| And lie to myself, hoping all of this was fake.
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| Because I got a new perspective on general anesthetics
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| When you finally went to see Jesus,
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| and all your family learned how to believe in a void,
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| because that’s all that they could see in us.
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| Cigarette smoke and broken words,
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| My heard became the platform for everything they hated the most,
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| And I stayed clear of the lack,
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| Hoping somebody would come by and cut this rope.
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| Your apartment got so empty when you moved to that city with the streets of gold
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| And I know what you meant when you said this room can grow so terribly cold
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| And I wrestled with the idea of taking your place,
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| But I know that if anyone deserves a break from this world of pain,
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| It’s you, it’s not me.
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| And I’m still asleep.
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| It’s not about being there for me, it’s about respecting me enough
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| to tell me why you’re not.
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| So I’ll just slip back into my sleep,
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| There’s a demon in my casket and I think that we’ve fallen in love,
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| and most nights, I wish it was you. |