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My friends call me up to get me to go out on Friday night |
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But I just felt dead inside, like I had to hide |
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From small talk and boozed-up disapproving socialites |
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So many times I've tried by my brain is fried |
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My friends all try to tell me it's good to be alive |
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But they don't understand |
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That I'm already dead inside |
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I smoke myself stupid and I drink myself to sleep |
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I would step outside but I've admitted all defeat |
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I used to have a thirst for life but now I think I'm cursed |
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And I can't decide when I lost my pride |
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They say these are supposed to be the best years of my life |
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But they don't understand |
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That I'm already dead inside |
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I don't know who I am |
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I'm just a shell of a man |
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And don't bother asking |
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Why am I...? |