| I burned my Sunday clothes
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| Thought I had found my gold
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| But here I sit, picking up the pieces
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| And I’ve given up my hope
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| replaced with will to cope
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| I lost my friends to drugs and drinking
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| I’m slowly slipping away
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| Is it sad to say I feel okay?
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| I’ve tried my changing
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| But God, I just don’t care at all
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| But God knows that I’ve been playing a fool
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| I’ve been staying up and torturing myself
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| And if I could, I would save my own soul
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| I would burn my cross, burn it to the ground
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| So I screamed my final words
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| Not sure they would be heard
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| But I packed my bags and I carried on
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| And now I stay up nights
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| Contemplating the value of one life
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| But like Eric told me, «Keep on keepin' on»
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| Am I broken, is there just too much to fix?
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| Like a puzzle who’s pieces just won’t fit
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| I’m sick of hauling myself in
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| To learn there’s just nothing that can be done
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| But God knows that I’ve been playing a fool
|
| I’ve been staying up and torturing myself
|
| And if I could, I would save my own soul
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| I would burn my cross, burn it to the ground
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| And I was too scared to face it
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| I settled for fool’s gold
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| Now I’m trying to make it worth something it’s not
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| But God knows that I’ve been playing a fool
|
| I’ve been staying up and torturing myself
|
| And if I could, I would save my own soul
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| I would burn my cross, burn it to the ground |