| I used to believe I needed to be torn in two, reached inside of by you
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| To be put back together better than myself
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| Do I need to have a gnaw on the cud of my heart?
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| When I pine for my own love
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| And I can’t seem to warm up to myself
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| I get lost in the losing
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| I get lost, lost, lost, lost
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| In the television where a sermon lurches toward me like a semi swerving
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| What’s worse, the pastor is cursing under his breath
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| He can’t find the passage to back up the argument he is having with himself
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| And I see a page in his Bible rip clean out
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| As I drift off to sleep staring through the mountains in the motel painting
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| And my dream leaves itself with me
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| I am falling from the peak but instead of you, I’m calling out to me
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| I get lost, lost, lost, lost
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| In my waking life where I can’t wrench me from my mind
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| Clear enough to wrench you from it too
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| In an attempt to step back into myself without bringing you
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| If I could see today in all its glory, I believe I would be humbled
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| But the past, it has such a charisma, I feel it catching up
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| And I better run, run, so I don’t get lost
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| In that scene where I cursed you on the street
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| And you returned it to me with a look so kind
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| It’s impossible to describe beyond this perplexed mention
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| Now I bow my head in disbelief at how loaded of a lesson
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| How loaded of a lesson
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| Now there is no greater challenge than taming my violence
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| Living with it long enough to rid it
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| In the lake of pure intention, in the wilderness of forgiveness
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| I’ll show it compassion
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| I’ll pull it to me 'til we both fall asleep |