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I need to get out of this house. |
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This whole city is haunting me. |
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I cannot breathe within walls like these, |
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making me the weakling I am. |
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What I remember is rain, always rain; |
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always grey clouds in the morning sky. |
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And this old shitty record player, |
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repeating the only record we had. |
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You can't imagine how loud we had to turn it, |
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to drown out the father's yelling; |
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not to hear the mother's weeping; |
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to be safe from the noise. |
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A home, which was never our home. |
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A king, who yelled and hurt and drank. |
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A queen, who loved and wept and fell. |
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Children, who cried and dreamed and sank. |
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Your blood circling in my black veins. |
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I am your flesh, you are my chain. |
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I am the fruit of your sear tree, |
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just left to rot, never set free. |