| At the bottom of 69th street,
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| We can meet to talk about this break up make up break up make up bullshit.
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| Whenever I want to say something
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| It’s always you’re wrong, you’re wrong, you’re wrong I can’t take it!
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| Short story long: I can’t lose you,
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| But you make me feel like an enemy,
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| So I’ll keep you close like one
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| Until it’s time to face the truth.
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| I’m buried in the weight of your way out and you won’t even listen at all.
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| I thought you were my best friend. |
| Confronted by the truths that you’ve laid
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| out.
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| Bury me with all of my faults. |
| You’re supposed to be my best friend.
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| We could never keep it together.
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| My better half couldn’t do the math when things didn’t start adding up.
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| Manipulation plus ideation of my self-hatred minus my confiding characteristics.
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| Take it all from me, I know you want to.
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| And it’s just like you to criticize every little single thing that I do.
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| Don’t fucking touch me or tell me to chill or that I’m overreacting.
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| And it’s so like you to pull this shit where you push all of my buttons
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| Then pull me in then you push me to the edge and then pull the card of empathy
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| Before another round of friendly fire but I got a short, short fuse.
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| I guess it’s true what they say: the ones you love will hurt you the most.
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| So I propose a toast: to never let anyone in.
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| Man, it’s over. |
| We used to get two cosmic brownies with the Day’s soda
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| And tell each other our darkest secrets but now it’s over cause I know you
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| didn’t mean it.
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| And I still wanna call you to see what you’re about,
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| But time heals everything, and time ran out. |