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Like a beat-up kid who's out on his own |
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There's an urgency, a need to belong |
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In the morning sun, you get out of bed |
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With a thirsty tongue and a nail in your head |
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When the water's gone, the air can't breathe |
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The drugs that you're on, you've begun to need |
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You'd rather watch TV than go outside |
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You want to believe you're not going to die |
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You're not going to die |
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Winter's come and gone, another year marked off |
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All the feeling's gone, your mind is going soft |
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When the red ink runs like a rabbit who's scared |
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Pick up your guns and try to keep it fair |
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(Try to keep its hair) |
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Every day you try, you try to see |
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That you're going to die, it's hard to believe |
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It's hard to breathe |