| I don’t sleep, because sleep is the cousin of death
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| Down the hall, there’s a kid that I know
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| He’s kind of quirky so I say hello
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| He’s so sarcastic but he’s always right
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| Working on those problem sets late into the night
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| Mad magazines sit piled by his bed
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| A million brilliant thoughts going all through his head
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| We bike to class in the autumn rain
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| He tells me that he’s fine but I know he’s in pain
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| Pat I miss you dude it’s so hard to say goodbye
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| In Europe last winter you were tired of the lie
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| Monoxide in the bathroom but the door was locked
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| We were always there for you, you could have called and talked
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| I felt guilty and alone and so sick when I discovered
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| You did it in Berlin, you’d just talked to your mother
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| I guess it was too much, depression disillusion
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| Maybe suicide’s an answer, but it wasn’t the solution
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| And I wish that you hadn’t done it
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| Could have won it and moved on from it
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| And we could have grown old together
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| But instead you’ll always be 23… 23
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| We sat together one night on El Camino
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| On the bench by the bus stop hiding from El Nino
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| You told me your secret I just sat there in shock
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| You couldn’t tell your parents, you couldn’t break that lock
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| Cognitive dissonance, trapped in your shell
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| Depression and regression made your life a living hell
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| The pain was too intense, the fence too strong to break
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| So you went to Germany, it was too much to take
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| You came back broken hearted distracted by the dream
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| The worlds collided now, college wasn’t what it seemed
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| You went to back to Berlin to find yourself once more
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| They broke down the door and found you lying on the floor
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| I took the Amtrak up the coast, your mom met me at the station
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| I went to see your house and photos of your graduation
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| We drove to your grave, no tombstone where you lay
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| Your freshmen yearbook’s by your bed and your room’s in disarray
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| And I wish that you hadn’t done it
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| Could have won it and moved on from it
|
| And we could have grown old together
|
| But instead you’ll always be 23… 23
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| (vocal samples recorded spring 2003)
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| Lars: Ladies and gentlemen, I want you to meet a good friend of mine
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| This is Patrick Wood!
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| Pat: What’s up Lars?
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| Lars: What’s up Pat?
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| Pat: How you doing man?
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| Lars: Good. |
| What do you think of me having my recording equipment
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| Take up three quarters of our small room in the Kimball dorm?
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| Pat: It’s no problem man, I love you
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| Lars: I love you too Pat
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| Pat: Thanks Lars
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| Lars: Pat Wood! |
| Hey that’s you
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| Pat: (Sarcastic laughter)
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| And I wish that you hadn’t done it
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| Could have won it and moved on from it
|
| And we could have grown old together
|
| But instead you’ll always be 23… 23
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| Suicide sucks |