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I used to love the night and now |
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I dread my bed |
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Using all the light is how my head got spent |
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Torturous virus talk to my eyelids, walk in my size nines |
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Is this depression or a lesson from inner pressure pressing? |
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Either way, the fevers it deals me are evil |
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The thing that |
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I love most is trying to kill |
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M.E. I have the queerest feeling of my dearest appearing |
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To be leering from the ether, fear more fever |
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I don't like sleepers, drugs make me sleep |
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Sleep is like death, to do death when you're dead |
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Bridge disappears through fog in my ears |
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For this chronic fatigue, there's no tonic is seems |
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Lucid thinking is loopy to think of on and on weeks |
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The thing that |
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I love most is trying to kill |
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M.E. General health making my mental health break |
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But I'll never let go of what helps me create |
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Nothing to this point but for this love |
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Love, torturous virus get out from my eyelids |
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Just wanna ride out life in the key of |
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C I won't bash the black notes, |
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I won't ask for answers |
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Glance up at the banister |
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The thing that |
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I love most is trying to kill |
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M.E. The only good thing and |
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I should cling to it good |
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Are the sparks of good art that park in the darkness |
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Shaking eyes hate me to write |
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But make me think up quite nice ideas |
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It's like me enemy, telling me forget the pen dwelling |
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The madness and sadness is long |
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But flashes of mastery |
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It seems How many ways will it warm up, 8 months ago fate came |
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To break me in somewhat and rape me on the flames |
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The queerest feeling of my dearest appearing |
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To be leering from the ether, |
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I fear more fever |
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Like the bridge disappearing through fog in my ears |
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There's no tonic it seems for this chronic fatigue |
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I'm happily trading insanity lately |
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For passion, that makes me a man at least, maybe |
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The thing that |
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I love most is trying to kill |
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M.E. The thing that |
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I love most is trying to kill |
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M.E. What was |
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I thinking, who was |
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I then? Duly |
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I tried, truly amen |
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What was I thinking, who was |
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I then? Duly |
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I tried, truly amen |
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Pull some paper out the printer, pick up a pen and pen into the winter |
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The oldest cell in my body's only 10 years old |
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With the smell of the kitchen, |
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I dwell on the kissing of my missus |
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Holding a bowl and reminiscing (I am just a child who got a few years older) |
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Pull some paper out the printer, pick up a pen and pen into the winter |