| When I die
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| It will suffice if I’m surrounded by cardboard cutouts
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| That look vaguely like the people that I love
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| You don’t have to
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| Drop by to drop yours off if it’s too much hassle
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| Just throw it on the fire and let it burn
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| Do the same with mine when it’s your turn
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| Because all the things that help you sleep at night
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| Are all the things that are keeping me awake
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| And keeping me wondering
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| What was the point in putting up a fight
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| All those nights that you were keeping me at bay
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| For better or worse I’m always on the other side of town
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| None of my signs seem all that vital anymore
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| Which is a sure-fire sign that I need to find a pulse again somehow
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| At least now I remember Christmas Eve to keep me sober
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| And I’ll try to remember you when I rewire my mind
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| In an attempt to find
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| New ways to be alone
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| New ways to be alone
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| New ways to be alone
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| New ways to be alone
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| New ways to be alone
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| I’ll try to use these new ways to be alone
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| To understand
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| That all the things that help you sleep at night
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| Are valid reasons why I should stay away
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| And although the thought of checking out slows the world down right now
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| It won’t all be skin grafts and plane crashes someday |