| I am the only one they made
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| Cast from charming bones and clay
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| On that cold Winter’s day or so they say
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| We are the last known to exist
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| Hiding shine remote cliffs
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| We prefer it that way
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| Please leave us just like this
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| I used to hammer sheet metal till my palms bled
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| Cash my pay check at the bar then drink the whole thing
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| Catch a pheasant with my bare hands, take her home with me
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| Wake up at 5am and make it back to work to start again
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| You’re sweating whiskey in that first shift
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| By lunch break you’re feeling worthless
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| And soon you’re cracking jokes with workers
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| By the time the final whistle blows, your body’s feeling perfect
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| So let’s celebrate the good times
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| Another round for the old guys
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| And to that pretty thing with glazed eyes
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| I ain’t asking for a dance, I’m just hoping for a great night
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| Cause when the stopwatch dies we all drop like flies, so what’s the point in
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| being free to die (Right?)
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| (You see it’s not my time, I thought I lost my mind but instead it found a
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| place to hide)
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| Keep your fucking keys, I don’t need to drive (nah), I’ll just run for the rest
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| of the night
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| (Empty handle with my tongue on the edge of a knife, make me young,
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| make me numb, 'til my exit arrives)
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| My heart it pounds, so I can’t make out a sound
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| I’ve come this far, and I couldn’t leave without you now
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| If my heart beats now, then I’ll go turn around
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| If you know me, nobody does
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| Damaged goods tend to hide in pretty packages
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| Saddened looks get disguised in witty adages
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| It’s our dramatic twist, come watch the magic tricks
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| Abracadabra, necromancer sawed in half again
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| So I mutter some witty quips
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| If love is to give a glimpse, what’s under my skinny ribs?
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| A couple of whiskey sips or something to get me fixed
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| Before I’m antisocial like it’s Buffalo 66 in here --
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| So is it beautiful or frail?
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| I feel like Ouroboros when I’m chewing on my tail
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| The crows can form a chorus when the funeral prevails
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| It shows a glowing orange when the moon is full and pale
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| Wide awake and rueful, looking for a light to break the stupor
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| Of the types of grey that dilate my pupils
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| I can taste the sucrose on the tip of my tongue-y tongue
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| From tidal waves I’m running from but isn’t it funny once it’s done? |