Face it.
|
I'm catching all your drifts.
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They're blowing eastward, through my door and out my window.
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Originate in mouth.
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In innuendos.
|
Every word is meant to hurt.
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Meant to feel like war.
|
I've had enough.
|
All's fair only when the weather is.
|
The air is right for shooting down my best intentions,
|
but all the good it's done.
|
We'll never mention.
|
Just like the worst. Just like the worst.
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Hot tounges and poor little lungs are burnt to a crisp from fire that we spit.
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No wins with sharp bloody pins that we've hired and fired at will.
|
They're sticking in my skin.
|
I've had enough.
|
Allies are worthless in this shit-faced fucking
|
that I fear has grown to pity me for the damage done
|
and you for the healing.
|
When neither side has meant to hurt.
|
Now when I get lost.
|
I follow the blood trail home to my disgust
|
and think of all the wrong things I could be doing...
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and all the good times I could ruin.
|
"Hey, I wouldn't worry about it man.
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Do what you can try not to hide."
|
"Hey, I wouldn't worry about it man.
|
Do what you can to feel alive."
|
|
-----------------
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Ice Cream With The Enemy
|
None More Black |