| from the moment I woke,
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| in receipt of a blackmail note,
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| and all of these curious eyes,
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| a new disease of the last seen eyes,
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| a live christ in the city,
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| I got my black-eyed mind,
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| I’m gonna poison up the wrong way round,
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| like a bad design.
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| It’s in the way that I’m cold,
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| left dealing with a famished soul,
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| I won’t give you the time,
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| it’s greed sparked in a goldmine,
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| I can’t view your condition,
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| it’s as failed as they come,
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| great failures are forced into our famished eyes
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| with a gun.
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| It’s in the way that I’m cold,
|
| left dealing with a famished soul,
|
| it’s all as fake as they come,
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| burn my eyes like a sunset gun.
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| Your point of collapse-
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| my mark of indifference,
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| its all as fake as they come,
|
| burn my eyes like a sunset gun,
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| it’s not like you care,
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| even at my insistence,
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| its all as fake as they come-
|
| burn my eyes like a sunset gun.
|
| I won’t give you the time,
|
| it’s grief sparked in a goldmine,
|
| its in the way that i’m cold,
|
| left dealing with a famished soul,
|
| its all as fake as they come,
|
| burn my eyes like a sunset gun. |