| I burn poor and lonely packed to the brim with coal and cinder
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| Or on the shelf beside my bed where at night you lay turning like a door on its
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| hinges
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| First on your left side, then on your right side
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| Then on your left side again
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| I burn poor and lonely
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| Tell all the stones to vacate building
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| Neither cut into shape or in the right place
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| So I gaze out the window, for a place to stake a claim
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| Condemning any kind words and feasting on the blame
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| And ruin my reputation like a stain
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| All I know is plan making, not a shred of living
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| It’s so fun being unbearably lame
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| And I burn poor and lonely
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| Where are my torches?
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| Where are my torches?
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| Where are my torches? |
| Oh!
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| We could be torches together, torches together
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| Where are the torches? |
| I have no torches
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| Whatever respect my tattered dignity commands
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| Not one torch to grace my hand
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| Why pluck these strings? |
| What good are these happy notes
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| Oh, one string sounds fine I guess, but we were once 'one notes'
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| Ripped apart by savagery and a lack of faith
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| Oh, what darkness and delicious pain
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| I’m so in my safe distance
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| This faint and distant look
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| Why immerse yourself in pages
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| When you could piss upon the book
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| Why stand proud when you can eat your guitar?
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| Just eat your guitar
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| Eat your guitar
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| Eat the guitar
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| Only regret and self judgement
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| Take down the guitar and feast on the frets
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| Eat my guitar
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| Eat my guitar
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| Eat my guitar
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| Eat my guitar
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| Cause I am so afraid
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| And she’s afraid
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| And everyone’s afraid and everyone knows it
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| I will be deathly afraid evermore
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| I slit my throat and yet they keep dancing
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| I sang a sad song and all of you laughed
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| I slit my throat and yet they kept dancing
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| I sang a sad song and all of you laughed
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| I slit my throat, yet they kept dancing
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| I sang a sad song and all of you laughed
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| I slit my throat, yet they kept dancing
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| I sang a sad song, sang such a sad song |