| Why don’t you hang these steps upside down
|
| We’ll walk backwards and feel the blood drain to our heads
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| While your creeping away why don’t we pull the punches back?
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| And perhaps rebuild those severed ties;
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| When I felt you destroyed everything I knew
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| I felt ever so slowly becoming you
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| Where has my heart gone, and where has my faith gone?
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| And why am I still here, hating every breath you take
|
| Where has my heart gone, and where has my faith gone?
|
| And why am I still here, hating every breath you take
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| Every step you take, and every move you make?
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| And just wishing that you’d take your fucking last breath toward expiration;
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| I can’t even make myself out in the fog
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| You are the swamp
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| You are the sand beneath my feet pulling me down
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| I have no face for your name, your roots never went any further down;
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| I felt them writhe in the cellars of my mind
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| Rotted through right where they fell, yet here I am
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| The wasted pulp of what you are
|
| Where has my heart gone, and where has my faith gone?
|
| And why am I still here, hating every breath you take
|
| Every step you take, and every move you make?
|
| And just wishing that you’d take your fucking last breath toward expiration;
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| But at least if I fall
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| I can say we failed (we failed) together (together)
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| Sure to be the only thing we ever shared
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| 'cause you were never there (never there)
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| And I’m yet to feel like I’m even here
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| If I sink into the swamp that is misery
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| At least I know you’ll drown with me as well |