I've been bleeding well from this old wound,
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Cleaning it with salt, so it will still feel new.
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Sometimes eyes turn black, and sometimes scars are tracks.
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But everytime you're gone,
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I wish that you'd come back.
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And everyone watched me waste myself,
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and everyone cheared at last.
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And all of them found it comforting.
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It's better it's me, then them.
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I think I'm doing well from what they say,
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They've taken both my belts
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And shoelaces away.
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But I believe in luck...
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I think I do.
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Well I believe for sure,
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If ever I see you.
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've been fanning flames from these old coals.
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Feeding them with tender, and hoping they will grow.
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And I've been savoring what I can't hold.
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A blind belief in goodness
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That doesn't seem to show.
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And I've been bleeding well from this old wound.
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Cleanning it with salt, so it will still feel new.
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THIS OLD WOUND
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Dashboard Confessional |