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I became accustomed to a kind of social servitude and no one, I mean no one, could accept what I had become. |
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Selfish, bitter, weak. |
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Enough to make you sick. |
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And lately I've been feeling there are bits of life I'm stealing. |
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Get me home. |
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At times it seems I will not help but it's just that I must save myself from fear that blankets like mist, |
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On an optimist who insists it's the simple things that crush, |
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And I'm crying far too much, so much so that I'm thinking my control on life is shrinking. |
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There's a light on in my head and I'm thinking what I said. |
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All the freedom in my brain, I'm alright now, I'm just thinking what to say. |
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Sorry doesn't seem to wash when there's truths around that I have quashed |
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And no one, I mean no one, can depress me more than I can. |
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So does that make me weak or should that make me sick? |
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But lately I've been feeling that I'm gonna give up breathing. |
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There's a light on in my head and I'm thinking what I said. |
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All the fever in my brain, I'm alright now, I can even take the pain. |