It's more than fists and phases.
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It goes beyond life's little changes.
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It's not enough.
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Banks, bombs, coffee shops and everything I own.
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I can't even think a second without my thoughts coming down to wreck it.
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Spirits been gone for months.
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When is it coming home?
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These hangups alone are cutting me down,
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hurting my ears,
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chomp at the bit and bite at the masses.
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Forgot whose in control.
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I'm killing what kills.
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Healing what hurts.
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Smile at the world.
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Destroying these feelings.
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Everyday I miss it.
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I practise petty fucking myths to fix it...
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Just for a while.
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Shelve it with the rest of me.
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Next to the faith I've loaned.
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I sore my throat to get it.
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I tune it in and turn it up to forget it.
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That's how it happens.
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Stage fright therapy is the only help I own.
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Everyday Balloons
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None More Black |