| I’m losing ground
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| you know how this world can beat you down
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| I’m made of clay
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| I fear I’m the only one who thinks this way
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| I’m always falling down the same hill
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| bamboo puncturing this skin
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| and nothing comes bleeding out of me just like a waterfall I’m drowning in
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| 2 feet below the surface I can still make out your wavy face
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| and if I could just reach you maybe I could leave this place
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| I do not want this
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| I do not want this
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| I do not want this
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| I do not want this
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| don’t you tell me how I feel
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| don’t you tell me how I feel
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| don’t you tell me how I feel
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| you don’t know just how I feel
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| I stay inside my bed
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| I have lived so many lives all in my head
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| don’t tell me that you care
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| there really isn’t anything, is there?
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| you would know, wouldn’t you?
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| you extend your hand to those who suffer
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| to those who know what it really feels like
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| to those who’ve had a taste
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| like that means something
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| and oh so sick I am
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| and maybe I don’t have a choice
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| and maybe that is all I have |