| What do you give someone
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| Who’s already got one of everything you thought would be the perfect
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| Accoutrement to their unnerving temperament?
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| Attention
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| What could a lowly peasant being like myself
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| Offer a perfect pleasant savior of humanity
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| The redeemer of us sickly, sinning hillbillies?
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| Attention
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| Just one more resounding stab at all the others
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| You’ve almost blown your cover
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| But your traps don’t stick
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| One more bottle should do the trick
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| Discreetly cleansing the remnants of every disdainful quip
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| You found no escape route
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| But I know you well enough to hate you now
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| It’s too bad you haven’t figured that out
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| What do you call someone
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| Who calls you out on DIY ethics you don’t embody
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| As he drains his dad and mommy’s monthly data plan?
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| An asshole
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| With an iPhone
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| I’ll admit, I’m in the same boat
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| Caught between my adolescent safety net
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| And where the world wants me to be
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| But I never use that as an excuse
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| To treat my friends the way that you treat me
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| Just one more distorted, sad attempt at humor
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| From the jagged, bleeding tumor in our throat
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| Malignance at best, and quick to address yourself
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| As anything other than what we’ve learned to expect
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| The patron saint of Good God Damn
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| I’ll kick myself to sleep
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| Before I shake that grimy, dirty, crusted, arrogant hand
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| So please leave my house |