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Walking south along the river |
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Never had he found that twist of pleasure |
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Remembering times when they were younger |
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Setting the town on fire |
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And watching as his fellow friends |
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Fell apart in the wake |
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Claiming it was all just a mistake |
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When his finger pulled the trigger |
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And he shot everyone |
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It was all just a mistake |
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When he shot everyone |
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Nothing will stand in the way |
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When hunger hasn't eaten for days |
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Scrounges around where ends meet |
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And disappears into the fray |
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He hopes for awhile he'll reconcile |
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The pain that never dies |
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The ghosts of his family constantly |
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Gnawing at his insides |
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He pulls out a worn photo |
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And an old handmade gun |
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Wishes it was he who was frying |
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When he set the whole town on fire |
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He walks off crying |
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He shot everyone |