| It’s fucking sad that we need a tragedy to occur to gain a fresh perspective in
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| our lives
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| Nothing happens for a reason, there’s no point even pretending you know the sad
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| truth as well as I
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| Oh god, the morning light
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| Sun rays bring my paranoia
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| I can’t function unless I’m the only one awake
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| Rancor of our
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| Last conversation that
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| Forbidden word you
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| Deform to
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| Handicap me then
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| Abuse your advantage
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| I’m nervous my soul is returning to crystals
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| Because your eyes are an agent of darkness
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| There’s nothing to fight
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| It’s just a bit of fait accompli
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| I spend my waking hours haunting my life
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| I made the one I love start crying tonight
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| And it felt good
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| Still there must be a more elegant solution
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| Lately I’m rotted in the filth of
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| Self offered agonies that really should
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| Fill me with shame
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| But all I have is this manic energy
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| I lost my page in being the black stamped disciple in your heart collage
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| Just want to celebrate me
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| Need to suffer more
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| Face our puerility
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| Converts officiate
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| Divides new stratagems to
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| Disembowel our quotidien characters
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| I spend my waking hours haunting my life
|
| I made the one I love start crying tonight
|
| And it felt good
|
| Still there must be a more elegant solution
|
| I know I’m upside down about you
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| Your kindness feels like blasphemy or some sick education on the limits of
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| humanity
|
| So I profane the laws of some Victorian garbage
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| And listen to you smashing up my studio again
|
| I spend my waking hours haunting my life
|
| I made the one I love start crying tonight
|
| And it felt good
|
| Still there must be a more elegant solution
|
| Lately all I can produce is psychotic vitriol
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| That really should fill me with guilt
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| But all I have is asthmatic energy |