| I’m back to writing lists again
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| Trying not to think about my neck or wrists again
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| Trying not to think of anything
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| Trying not to think of you
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| Believe me, I wish that I could
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| I wish you would talk
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| I wish I could shut up
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| Wish that we could find a way to go back to a time way before
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| Every bite tasted this bitter
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| Before I got tired of wishing
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| Before you got bored
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| And before I started writing
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| Another few thousand words to let you know that I’m not doing fine
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| And I somehow still don’t think I’ll be a couple more teeth down the line
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| Because most of one half of my family is dead
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| Now I’m dead to most of the other half
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| And you keep shining hope through the crack in the door
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| Then whenever I get close you slam it shut
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| And turning 30 really opened my eyes to the fact
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| That I’m firmly stuck in a brand new rut
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| And I know it’d be easier to give in to hate
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| Just like it’d be easier to give up and die
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| Recently it’s become a choice between the two
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| And I can’t figure out why
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| So now it’s caffeine to get through the day
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| Sleeping pills to shut down
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| Then painkillers for the migraine
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| Day in, day out, week after week |