| Waking in the morning, affected by your sleep
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| Your vision is blurred, you can’t feel your feet
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| Your body is cold, you dont feel quite right
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| You cannot what happened during the — night
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| You get off the floor- trying to stand, it is so hard
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| Your circulation, seems to have stopped, whats going on?
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| You feel your way- to wash your face- It takes forever
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| On the way you fall down, straight onto something wet
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| It smells like blood, a smell you can never forget
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| You stand up again- you’re nearly there
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| But you cannot see- or feel your legs
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| But you know you are close- living there all these years
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| But now you enter, the room you seek
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| Hoping that water will help you see
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| You stumble across the room
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| The effort has left you weak
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| You search blindly and finally turn the faucets on
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| Underneath you hold your hands
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| Then splash it on your face
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| Panic flows within- something’s not right
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| You can only see from one eye-
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| You think thats because theres just one
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| You turn around to find the mirror on the wall
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| The reflection makes you retch
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| «what the- fuck is
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| Going — on here?»
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| You scream
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| Then a memory from the night before
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| Makes you look down at the gun on the floor
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| Standing there with half a head
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| You wonder why you just didn’t stay dead |