| Know your place, it’s like a voice
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| That won’t go away
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| Like vices we hold to tradition
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| Like children not allowed across the street
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| Starving for some recognition
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| Where want and honesty meet
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| Nothing known can match the bitter pain
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| Of knowing happiness is just beyond the reach of your chain
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| And the overwhelming feeling it will be the same forever
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| Now here I am looking down a hole again
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| Treating damage and despair like they’re long-lost friends
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| No remedy at all, I’m waiting for the fall
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| Staring out the window like what’s outside’s unattainable
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| Cover me with roses for the funeral pyre
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| Shoot this dashing carcass out to fucking sea
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| I can’t wait in this state
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| This voice, these hands don’t feel like they’re really me
|
| I’m the blinded who can feel that he’s surrounded by walls
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| And relief is very seldom cheap
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| Now I think I’m gonna snap like prey in a trap
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| Watch as desperation takes a seat
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| Forgive me my trespasses
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| Like I know I’ll trespass tonight
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| Don’t want to hear any fucking voices at all
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| Even if they’re saying I’m alright
|
| Memory’s beating soundly on the body
|
| Cursing what’s left of the sorry shell
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| I’d give anything to make this heart stop pounding
|
| Staring out the window like what’s outside’s unattainable
|
| Cover me with roses for the funeral pyre
|
| Shoot this dashing carcass out to fucking sea
|
| I can’t wait in this state
|
| This voice, these hands don’t feel like they’re really
|
| Now life’s like a B-movie that no one wants to see
|
| Here comes the zombie portraying me
|
| What was once so crystal clear is now cranked past the norm
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| And I can’t take it anymore
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| You’re going to fuck them after all |