| I have the feeling that this feedback is washing me off of any identity
|
| Loosening up the safety bolts screwed down my very self
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| Barricades falling one by one
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| No longer an actor, just a mere bystander straying
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| I have no doubt you breached my spirit
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| I loose the grasp of my string of thoughts
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| A cloud of shouts clashes through my ears
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| These wordings, so strange, incantations boiling out my fluids
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| All I can comprehend is my soul is softening, beaten by the brazenness of their
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| tongues
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| Gutted, ethereal and distilled, I’m their tiny delicacy
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| Pummeling my skull with a brutal infancy
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| I develop compassion for your condition
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| So devoid of any substance yet explicit
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| Is this the genesis of your doctrine?
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| These cunning spongers takes control as I’m becoming nothing more than a
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| blueprint
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| I loose the grasp of my string of thoughts
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| Why should I follow you if only for the high you’re giving me
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| Let me cut short and call a spade a spade
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| This is proselitysm
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| Learn who you are, hysteria stricken mime
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| Run away from this place, my child
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| Your jaw can dance, would your tongue flee? |