Twenty-nine years into life. Some things, I still can get right.
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Priorities may never be straight. That's always a topic for debate.
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I've made up my mind. I shouldn't be loved.
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I play in a band, I work when I'm home.
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Why do I feel guilty for the shit that I have done?
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I've opened some doors. Slammed just as many.
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Opportunity's knocked. How can you blame me?
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I'm trapped in a life that I have chosen.
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My heart's growing colder yet harder to be broken.
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Again and again. I'm chipping away at nothing.
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Majestic
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None More Black |