| I didn’t tell anyone about what I seen or heard that day, mums the word still
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| I’m scared to plant ideas into your head while your rebellious side is fertile
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| Hurdles are getting knocked down
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| I’m running a losing race
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| Your legs aren’t the only ones marked up How many dreams have you chased?
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| If I could have said this to your face maybe you wouldn’t have to write like I do,
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| Except I use paper instead of my body now; |
| it’s something you might want to try
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| too
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| From haikus to horror stories, it’s something in our blood that we share,
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| Something in our blood that appears on the surface of our skin when we bring it there
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| My facial expression said I didn’t care
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| Hate and aggression must’ve made an impression on the little kid who stared,
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| Sitting on stairs when I would bother to bring my skates
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| My feeble attempt at being a strong, big brotherdoing father figure 8's
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| Ripping my cape on the ground that it dragged on Tripping on fate and hearing the sounds of a sad song
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| Listen, it’s great sharing time now that dad’s gone,
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| But what’s with the choice of words?
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| Or the body parts that you decided to tag them on?
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| I’m a bagabond who moved to modern day Babylon and then back again
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| With minimal contact and you know I can’t ask your mom what’s happening
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| You’ve got such beautiful gifts What are you doing ruining the packaging?
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| How ironiccome to thinkI probably put this ink on my back for him
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| I want you to laugh and sing more,
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| But you dropped anchor in a place
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| where dreams go to die and you’re keeping your ass indoors
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| I’m asking for you to stick it outand see things through
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| You’re asking for me to zip my mouth and keep it just between me and you
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| If I could have been there from the beginning if I could be there right now
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| if I could promise to be there when you need me, would it raise an eyebrow?
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| How would your body be different if I still dropped by for visits?
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| Is it my place to put a smile on your face?
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| Could I erase your body language telling you its all been said before?
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| Or change the words you wrote, exchanging your scars for my metaphors?
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| I’d add them to my collection while smiling
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| Next time you want to paint with razor blades and need a canvas use my skin
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| You’re hiding your sins well, but I see the hell that your limbs speak
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| Tongue in cheek Lying awake in bed while other kids sleep
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| The strength of evil begins to keep your grins weak
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| No matter the length of the needle
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| marking up one’s body is so much more than skin deep
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| Feel the pin prick The grim reep what they sew and you’re trained to say that
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| you’re fine
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| Your thresh hold for pain is greater than mine
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| So I’m waiting in the lines that you give mepatiently,
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| While you get cut in the lines that THEY make YOU wait inin ways that they
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| can’t see
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| If there’s a vacancy as far as room in your life goes,
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| say it to me Don’t do it with a knife under your clothes
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| Because the anguish of hidden skinis letting my ghosts be shown
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| Plus the language its written in hits especially close to home
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| I’m most alone when I’m out of touch with the people who feel this type of pain
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| You might just aim for a day that its rainingto strike a vein to take my name in Changing your uniform and altering your mind set
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| Has your pointer finger decided if it was a fault of his or mine yet? |
| I bet
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| I know the dialect It’s nowhere I haven’t been before
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| With skin that’s sore Battle scars that rise from our inner war
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| Are decorative medals of honor that our father decided to pass through
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| inheritance
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| And it is repetitive when the kids head in the direction of evidence
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| proving the pain and hurt is relative
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| All this pain and hurt is relative
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| (repeat chorus)
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| Fade to black |