| I got no money for beer but I drink every night
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| Ain’t got no money for weed, but I still get high
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| I think the ten-year-old me would be so surprised
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| About the way that he now chooses to live his life
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| And still, I feel like it’s all the same
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| 'Cause I feel this way every single day
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| And I’m wondering if all of this is worth it
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| What’s the cost for feeling like a piece of shit?
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| I feel all of this taking my innocence
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| Taking my innocence
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| I can’t change the way that I live
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| So we stop and hit the packie, roll some wacky-tobaccy
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| I’m dulling my senses till I can’t feel anything
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| And nothing is right, everything is wrong
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| And I just wish that I could move on
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| Nothing is real, it don’t make no sense
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| And I don’t think that I could be feeling less
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| I find myself on your kitchen floor
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| And my life’s becoming such a bore
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| The bottom of the bottle is the end of me
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| Just move on and believe you’re free
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| I just want to make some sense
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| Because right now I could just care less |