| No one means what they say
|
| And you can tell as clear as deep-sea fish
|
| All internal organs and glowing eyes
|
| I’ve been good, I’ve been busy
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| I’ve realized my friends' true intentions, cut all ties
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| I’ve been doing ten thousand push-ups a day
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| Plastic cube filled with pus
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| That sits atop my supervisor’s desk
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| The feeling of ice on the inside of the wrist
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| Always tired, need a nap
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| I have to make myself brush my teeth
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| I’ve made a list of everything I’ve ever owned
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| When the days bring nothing new
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| And the sound of laughter makes you sick and snide
|
| You know you’ve got
|
| You’ve got the jitters
|
| Nothing’s wrong, I’m just fine
|
| I’ve realized I just don’t like jokes
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| I’m thinking of moving, I can’t call anyone back
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| You can tell every time they lean away
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| When you just want to talk
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| You couldn’t buy their interest now
|
| Stolen cars in a heap
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| A naked body on the neighbor’s yard
|
| When they let you down on cue
|
| When you give up way before you even try
|
| You know you’ve got
|
| You’ve got the jitters
|
| They glow as they near
|
| Then disappear like highway signs on a starless night
|
| And it’s so hard to say who’s being fled
|
| And who’s in flight |