| In a small town,
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| Where the old screen door on the corner store,
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| Always smelt like grease.
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| We were fucking around and wasting days,
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| In the middle of the street.
|
| There lied my innocence,
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| It was take from me,
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| The day the needle met your arm.
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| You swore to me,
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| I would never see you die,
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| Saving my meals,
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| To make sure that you eat at night.
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| I’ll wait for you to call and say,
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| Things were just as fucked as I remember,
|
| But it wasn’t up to us to change.
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| If someone could have listened,
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| Maybe we’d have crossed their minds,
|
| And I could un-see everything and feel responsible for,
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| My own life.
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| No you checked out,
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| Told yourself it’s not your fault.
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| Running from the ghost of the days,
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| That you left us with.
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| And Lately,
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| I guess that’s fine,
|
| no one we knew took their lives,
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| Revenge is fucking tasteless.
|
| But an eye will always cost an eye.
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| I’m taking responsibility,
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| For everything I did,
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| 'Cause no one made me do that shit.
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| The hard part is coming to terms,
|
| With everything I’ve seen,
|
| And that ain’t easy.
|
| I’ll wait for you to call and say,
|
| Things were just as fucked as I remember,
|
| But it wasn’t up to us to change.
|
| If someone could have listened,
|
| Maybe we’d have crossed their minds,
|
| And I could un-see everything and feel responsible for,
|
| My own life.
|
| The hard part is coming to terms,
|
| With everything I’ve seen,
|
| And that ain’t easy.
|
| And I guess that’s fine,
|
| Nobody took their lives,
|
| Revenge is tasteless,
|
| But an eye will always cost an eye.
|
| I still feel so fucking lost,
|
| When I hear Blink on the radio.
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| So fucking lost,
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| So lost.
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| I still feel so fucking lost,
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| When I hear blink on the radio.
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| So fucking lost, So lost.
|
| The hard part is coming to terms,
|
| With everything I’ve seen,
|
| And that ain’t easy |