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What's passed these hands... oh these
drugs and one night stands. So I tremble
when I think of what she'd do.
She'd say something like, 'You're no good.
You're like the junkies in this neighborhood.'
We all need a fix. I guess I need one too.
But I'm trying madly to calm these nerves with
something new.
I've got this heavy debt, I've got nothing left
but this daunting weight slung around my nack.
You've got that vallous mouth, all your endless doubts,
we spent these fifteen weeks trying
to work it out. Do you think we're getting to
something new?
Oh God, not another fight.
I'm always trying to get the details right. I
remember when you told me you felt saved. And
you promise you'd lay flowers on my grave, just
like they used to do. Is it something new?
And now here I stand with these blood0soaked
hands on this sleepless night that never ends,
and these songs I sing with these hopes I cling
to, desperately wondering: Are we finally getting
to something new?
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