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Where else can I go? I'm seeing old houses in row stretching past the banks of snow. Am I no better than those who dwell between their walls? I am one of them after all. The city collapses into sprawl and all the kids are plastic dolls. They crawl along the street like monsters dancing next to me, and we sing.
What a price we pay for things we will only throw away. They pile up but they're not enough to make a charming display. Pride can get confused, you say "a pretty face should wear pretty shoes." You're doing you for you but that's a sad excuse, it's more like self-abuse. If there is evil within me then there is evil within everybody.
That's nothing new to you.
Bless this sorry mess that you have created in your chest. I swear you're not depressed you just feel bad at best and you're a little remote.
But my fingers and my toes are aching over every note. It's like my frame is composed of paper, glue and hope so I hide it all under clothes.
But there's still love somewhere in me, so there must be love in everybody
But that's nothing new to you.