| I can’t open up to you
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| Me and my friends are lonely
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| I don’t know what to do
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| I always figured I’d be the one to die alone
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| I cope smothered in smoke
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| Dehydrate my soul
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| I know things that you don’t
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| I’ve met murdering folk
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| And they took one of our own
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| They took our innocent home
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| So I can’t open up to you
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| Me and my friends are lonely
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| I don’t know what to do
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| I always figured I’d be the one to die alone
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| So is there any lesson in confessing that you posted up
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| Like Jesus on the corner selling baggies full of blessing?
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| Is it stressing all the things that you have morally accepted?
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| Is it vexing wearing clothes that you have bled in?
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| Picture perfect victim, overwhelmed and so sadistic
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| I was looking for a purpose, what a chance, you had some with you
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| On the street when I forgot, the city breathes when I do not
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| If I leave it does not stop here, no
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| So, is there any treason in the tricky little price I paid?
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| Oh, is there any treason in the tricky little price I paid?
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| I can’t open up to you
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| Me and my friends are lonely
|
| I don’t know what to do
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| I always figured I’d be the one to die alone
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| I always figured I’d be the one to die alone
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| I always figured that I’d be the one to die alone |