| Broken glass under a poison half-moon
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| On some shattered highway that goes nowhere at all
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| Wraps around its prey like a concrete serpent in the acid rain
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| With fangs fastened around my throat
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| I choke on the fumes as the world in a blur
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| Falls away but leaves me clouded and hollow
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| Blood on my hands, and a thing in the backseat
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| That used to be human
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| Flying on the highway, trying to outrun me
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| Drained of thought, but the broken glass, it haunts me
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| Glittering like gems or sparkling like evil rainfall
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| That turns to steam in the heat
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| Ugly, hot, and shaking
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| With the thing in the backseat
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| It seeps through the plastic shroud…
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| As I push the needle faster and further
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| Coronas around the judging eyes of streetlights
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| Mad with thirst, almost enough to lap up iridescent rain
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| Just a little further, but the pupils of night are diminishing
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| Subtle
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| By the time the smog sets in to eat away the morning
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| I should be somewhere, praying that I’m dreaming |