| I know to you my soul is nothing more than a mirage
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| You could see through it if you’re looking hard enough
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| I get depressed when that’s all i can think about
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| I could live inside my head, suppressed
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| Let loneliness get loud and proud
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| But as I get older, the answer reveals itself, a sieve
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| A constant repetition of forgive, forget, forgive, forget
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| My love is in the sonic residue of memories
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| The melting notes from shaky throats thrown over balconies
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| Reverberating, bellowing, throbbing in my skin
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| From diaphragm to diaphragm to input, output, input, output, in
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| Though I get stronger the longer I know my heart to be a sieve
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| I still need constant affirmations to just live, just live, just live, just live
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| When I look closer, the patterns repeat themselves and shift
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| An endless reflection of a gift
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| As we grow longer or slowly unfold ourselves, a wish
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| Of moving closer to a place for us to live |