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whoever else i may have been |
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she'd still be going through this now |
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but all the quiet hours i require still cant show me how |
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im barely living |
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in her halftime show |
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keeping warped minutes of her wishes and revisions |
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and somethings knocking around in me like a loose nut |
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this tell-tale penis kick in the gut |
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shot down my strut |
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the walls are beating |
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it's my reflection in my death |
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it's the alarm clock riding the horizon |
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once we spent our afternoons |
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dancing in our living rooms |
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now shes giving into her most unlit corners too soon |
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love is a lifetime's winding twisting tapestry |
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so reborn now without fears |
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before you ever met me |
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you can end things with your boyfriend |
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i'll quit chasing you around |
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but how long will the echo of the tell-tale penis sound |
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its the creak in the floorboards |
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it's throb is in my head |
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it's the alarm clock riding the horizon |
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it's the hand up through the dirt |
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toward the sky after midnight |
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burried alive and left for dead |