| Sitting around, no work today
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| Try pacing to keep awake
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| Laying around, no school today
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| Just drink until the clock has circled all the way
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| It is late afternoon
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| As you walk through the rooms
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| Of a house that is quiet
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| Except for unanswered telephones
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| You stand near the sink
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| While you’re mixing a drink
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| You think you don’t want to pass out
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| Where your roommates will find you again
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| Stumble around the neighborhood with nothing to do
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| You’re always looking for something
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| To sniff, smoke, or swallow
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| Calling over next door to see what they got
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| But you would settle for anything
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| That would make your brain slow down or stop
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| Break this circle of thoughts you chase
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| Before they catch back up with you
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| And your parents noticed your thinning face
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| All the weight you lost
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| All the weight you are losing
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| You said, «I'm done feeling like a skeleton
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| No more sleep walking dead»
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| You’re going to wake from this coma
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| You’re going to crawl from this bed you have made
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| And stop counting on that camera
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| That hangs round your neck
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| Because it won’t ever remember
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| What you choose to forget
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| As you try to find some source of light
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| Try to name one thing you like
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| You used to have such a longer list
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| And light you never had to look for it
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| But now it’s so easy to second guess everything you do
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| Until all you want is to finish this half empty glass
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| Before the ice melts away
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| This feeling always used to pass
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| But seems like it’s every day
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| Seems like it’s every night now |