| That night when I lifted my head up
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| And I was seeing what was trembling there
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| On the edge of my restless eyelid
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| On the tip of the horizon’s lash
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| On the lip of the collapsing letter
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| In the lap of the confusing moon
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| I’m reduced to an estranged illusion
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| I’m consumed by all the shit in my room
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| Well then, maybe if you pick my room up
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| Carve a path in my moonlit floor
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| Through the colors I adorn my body with
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| In ritual, the life I adore
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| Nowadays I usually just get up
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| Put on a sweater from the day before
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| Like you said, it’s got to get better
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| Wear my shadow like a uniform
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| I’m torn right through
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| Divided right in two
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| So while I do align my library
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| By the colors on the spine of my books
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| When I’m looking for a resolution
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| But there’s wreckage everywhere I look
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| And there’s brambles scratching at the window
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| And there’s silver shining on the thorns
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| I could’ve sworn the moon’s singing to me
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| Strung in a phase so strange and torn
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| Now the stars look fake and strung up
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| And the colors on the floor are worn
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| And the hues on my body are muted
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| In the shadow, my uniform
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| I’m torn right through
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| Divided right in two
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| And I’m lost and I’m losing
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| The brightest light I knew
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| That I knew |