| I am nothing but a shell of the man I once was
|
| So you can put me to your ear and actually hear yesteryear’s ocean
|
| I was in shape then
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| A much better built body of water with infinite waves and fathomless depths
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| Where you could have gone deep sea fishing for compliments
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| And caught plentiful schools of reassuring comments
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| Now all you get is the boot
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| You fell for the bait and got hooked on what you thought I was
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| Now we’re both struggling to win this tug of war of the worlds
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| Where we breathe the same air, it’s just done differently
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| And I’m tryin to figure out ways to have comfortably survive outside your
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| element
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| Compromising intelligence
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| I dabbled in watered down thoughts that filtered in from the main stream
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| I’m offering mind altering ideas that make the most quiet natured brain scream
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| From exposure to the types of things that won’t necessarily make you happier
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| They’ll just give you a greater range of emotions
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| And I can feel myself getting lured into deeper oceans of 'Fantasy Land'
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| Where people think they’re as safe as cartoons simply because they speak in
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| bubbles
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| A sanitized safe-haven where you could face Satan and have his faith
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| straightened
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| His new goal would be to dethrone Poseidon and have Neptune’s place taken
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| They’d swashbuckle with their pitchforks
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| While Lucifer shit talks and rips forts of coral reef
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| For relief he’d be like «bitch walk»
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| From this oversized aquarium that daddy kept cleanly to unhealthy degrees
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| Writing suicide notes with invisible ink on transparencies
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| And posting them to the glass boundaries that surround the seas of change
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| Strangely enough, while bringing back the real (reel)
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| I could sense intense resistance so I had no other choice but to cut the line
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| I’m not saying you’re overly naive
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| I just think you should get into the habit of checking to see when strings are
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| attached
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| Fortunate for you I’m compassionate enough to throw back what I catch
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| If it’s underdeveloped and needs time to grow
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| Though I’m remorseful of the pain I’ve caused you
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| And I want to kiss your lips better
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| I sympathize with the sorrow by stroking the scar
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| Of my own traumatic experience with my excommunicated tongue
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| So I know exactly what you mean when you say it hurts too much to talk
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| I’ve been there; |
| I don’t plan on returning cause
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| No matter how much of a distance I kept or how long I waited for my wounds to
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| heal
|
| They’d re-open with the slightest flashback
|
| So I sued time for malpractice
|
| That bastard’s a hack with a rusty scalpel and barbed-wire stitch thread
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| Instead of seeing things clearly, they’re pitch red
|
| And there’s this glitch in my head that’s got me thinking contradictions,
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| it said:
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| «There are more fish in the sea
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| Whether you hear me not or you listen to me
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| Whether you listen to me or hear me not»
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| There are more microorganisms in my teardrop
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| But fear not, I’d never sink as low as to make my ears pop
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| And I imagine now you only want to swim with members of your own league
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| And you don’t need me meddling, sending sonar signals
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| High pitched notes are symbols, my voice is thrown far
|
| But ripples are only caused when you cast stones
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| But you shouldn’t throw rocks if you live in fragile fairytales
|
| Girl: «This really means something to me; |
| I’ll always treasure it as a token»
|
| Guy: «No you won’t, cause this is for the girl who loves me
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| The girl who cares about me for who I am, not what I look like
|
| I just wanted you to know you’d be missing
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| You think I don’t appreciate art, you think I don’t understand fashion
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| You think I’m not „hip“, you think I’m pathetic
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| A nerd, a lard-ass, fatso, you think I’m shit
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| Well you’re wrong, cause I’m champagne
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| And you’re shit, until the day you die
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| You, not me, will always be shit» |