| Where should I start? |
| Disjointed heart
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| I’ve got no commitment to my own flesh and blood
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| Left all alone, far from my home
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| No one to hear me, to heal my ill heart
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| I keep it locked up, inside
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| I cannot express to the point I’ve regressed
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| If anger’s a gift, then I guess I’ve been blessed
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| I keep it locked up, inside
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| Keep my distance from your lies
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| It’s too late to love me, now
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| You have never shown me
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| It’s too late to love me, now
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| You don’t even know me
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| Breaking a part of my heart to find release
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| Taking you out of my blood to bring me peace
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| Breaking a part of my heart to find release
|
| Taking you out of my blood to bring me peace
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| Breaking a part of my heart to find release (Break!)
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| Taking you out of my blood to bring me peace (Me!)
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| Breaking a part of my heart to find release (Down!)
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| Taking you out of my blood to bring me peace
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| Keep it locked up, inside
|
| Keep my distance from your lies
|
| Breaking a part of my heart to find release (Break!)
|
| Taking you out of my blood to bring me peace (Me!)
|
| Breaking a part of my heart to find release (Down!)
|
| Taking you out of my blood to bring me peace
|
| Breaking a part of my heart to find release
|
| Taking you out of my blood to bring me peace
|
| Breaking a part of my heart to find release
|
| Taking you out of my blood to bring me peace
|
| Keep my distance
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| Keep my distance
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| Keep my distance
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| Keep my distance
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| Spit drips from the jaw of the witless witness
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| Cryptic colloquialisms shift your mid rift
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| Dog paddle through a bog of shadows and smog
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| With my thought catalog, analogue rap battle log
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| Keep my distance and fear resistance
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| Hurt by persistence, the twisted web of tangled lies
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| Strangles my hope to waste and numbs the taste
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| And I’m forced to face these hate crimes
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| Against the state of being
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| Feeling the weightlessness press me to the ceiling
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| Reeling around rooms, riding a bubble of sound
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| Tuned to the frequency making your chest shake
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| With every boom
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| Involuntary muscle contraction
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| Ignoring your neck’s breaking, musical gas fume euphoria
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| The sound pounds to make the dead flush
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| To hand you a head rush with read thoughts and said stuff |