| Tragic
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| Am I moving backward?
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| I can’t tell these days
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| Am I losing touch or do I think too much?
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| Overanalyzing, I internalize everything these days
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| So I put my palms together
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| (I promise that I’ll)
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| Put in all the effort
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| (Head in it all)
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| In spite of all the pressure
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| I’ll walk until my feet bleed
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| Furthest thing from easy
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| Step out from the pile
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| (I promise that I’ll)
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| Make this worth your while
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| (Head in it all)
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| Because I know that
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| I’ll walk until I feet bleed
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| Furthest thing from easy
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| Dried up
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| Nothing in the reservoir
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| I thirst these days
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| Put the blinders on until the thoughts are gone
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| And all the doubt vacates and gives my head some space
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| It’s kinda hard these days
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| If you put me on a shelf, I won’t live long
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| If you say it’s temporary, I’ll be gone
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| All my fingernails bitten to the ends
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| (Reaped and sewed, dry and old)
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| If I said I wasn’t anxious, it’s a lie
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| If I said the validation soothes my mind
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| Does that make me more human in your eyes?
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| Everybody has a date that they expire
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| Is it shameful that this keeps me up some nights?
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| Knowing that if I don’t play my cards just right
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| Every part of this could vanish in my heads
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| Fingernails bitten to the ends |