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Just this morning, out on my steps, it was raining |
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I couldn't muster up the energy to |
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go back inside to keep from getting wet |
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|
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Making excuses, I know the truth is the glue that holds me down |
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This feeling unwell |
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Contemplating months spent hating myself, |
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not content but somewhat comfortable with self-contempt |
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|
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Maybe life isn't broken, but just bent |
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I'm not convinced, something's gotta ****ing give |
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And that's when it hit me, |
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this house doesn't have to be haunted anymore |
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Open up the doors, let the breeze in |
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The light at the end of the tunnel is |
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the experience that we all seem to funnel |
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Back into the bodies that we have rented |
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Life doesn't always make sense |
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You're the only thought that does |
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This house doesn't have to be haunted anymore |
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Our house doesn't feel at all haunted anymore |
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Life doesn't always make sense |
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but you're the only thought that does |
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|
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I don't know if you remember |
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We were half asleep in my bed |
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And I said, one day you'd be asked if you would marry me |
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And barely coherently, under your breath, you said, I would |
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I'm not sure you even know that I heard, |
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but those two words resonated harder than anything |
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And once again gave me a reason to wake up |
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In the morning |