| All I am fiction incarnate, anchored songs from a womb or lair
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| All I hate Britain and structure, fiscal goals for a house to share
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| Of the grain and land I’ll never have, I’ll be caught in another man’s house,
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| though I’ll spend my life in prison
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| I’m the best I’ll ever get
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| You’ll wait and write me letters, I’ll reply to every one, you’ll feel good
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| about being loyal
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| But I’m the best you’ll ever have
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| Thoughts will crack my skull, so I lay to sleep through weather, I’ll toil away
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| There’s no ship of change, so I lay to sleep through weather, I’ll never be home
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| Thoughts will crack my skull as I dig my fingers into the breach for nothing,
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| I’ll toil away
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| There’s no ship of change, so I lay to sleep through weather, I’ll never be home
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| I’ll toil away
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| I’ll be held never, so lay and moan
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| I’ll be drained lifeless, and lay and moan
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| In my head I’ll never let you go, bullshit chivalry, extinction is okay to bare
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| I’ll write with my liver, hamstrung literature, explaining my ruin
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| There’s a reason why I drink, there’s a reason why I’ll die here singing along
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| to comfortless verses and smashing glasses of wine to prove my point
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| There’s a reason why I stole, there’s a reason for as long as I can remember,
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| I’ve wanted to kill myself to prove a point
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| There’s a reason why I stole, there’s a reason for as long as I can remember,
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| I’ve wanted the world to know me alive through death |