| I feel like I’m walking on these coals & I’m so burnt
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| I feel like the boredom’s all I know when I’m sober
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| My temperament got too temperamental
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| Temper tantrums my best credentials
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| Tarantulas in my temple
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| What a web we weave they’re all dead to me
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| In these seven seas I’m setting sail
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| Since everything’s turned to ebony
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| Let it be known I’m your enemy
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| Letters are sewn to my pedigree
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| Identity set in my dreams of the centipedes ending me
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| And I see scenes up ahead of me entropy
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| All in my skin stained vanity hollow it is
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| Watch em follow the trends off a cliff fatality
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| Dear dad look what you made out of me
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| Hope you’re proud of me shoe-string salary
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| Blue period Picasso accosted
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| Myriad of costumes new-ink galleries
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| But no perfect appears
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| Person to person they purchase their tears
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| So real to surreal a career can careen
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| The currents obscuring my current affairs
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| I’m cursing the mirror this circus of fear that I live in
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| It is an illusion it’s lucid I’ll lose it eventually
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| So let us just let it be
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| I feel like I’m walking on these coals & I’m so burnt
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| I feel like the boredom’s all I know when I’m sober
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| I rode down a road made of rhododendrons
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| And wrote it down it bore no resemblances
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| But it’s so poetic I lost my youth in those phonetics
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| Sometimes the truth can be open-ended
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| And rotten fruit can be roses scented
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| Insensitive to the copacetic
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| My coping patterns grown so pathetic
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| I’m walking on coals
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| Burns all on my toes, they
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| Swallow my soul whole
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| And say that they are following code
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| Attack of the clones
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| Put a tack in my bones
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| To match the crack in my skull
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| A match crackles I’m standing alone on these coals |