| Maybe I’m defensive cuz it’s my favorite song
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| But you cheapen the passion every time you sing along and laugh
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| You take the photograph and recreate it piece by piece
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| You stand the same way and wear the same clothes
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| But you don’t see the desperation and frustration underneath
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| The pose the real belief
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| Cuz you’re a second rate imitation
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| A watered down simulation of the real thing
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| And that alone wouldn’t bug me
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| But it’s you thinking that everything is and has always been that same way
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| Well it almost sounds like anger
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| Almost looks like passion
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| Almost seems like real life worth living
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| You congratulate yourself for seeming so convincing
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| Then go home alone and find that something’s still missing
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| If this is what you wanted all along
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| I guess we don’t see eye to eye
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| Cuz I’m looking around trying to figure out what went wrong
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| So much potential should’ve added up even if we’d given up
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| I’d understand but we tried so hard and got nothing
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| But a rented hall with your shitty band
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| Who are we kidding we killed our own
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| Dreams before anyone else ever got the chance
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| And now we don’t even dance, so let’s just go home
|
| Well it almost sounds like anger
|
| Almost looks like passion
|
| Almost seems like real life worth living
|
| We congratulate ourselves for seeming so convincing
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| Then go home alone and find that something’s still missing |