am i real and what do i feel
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hate is half a heart
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only i am in my arms
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you were sold as something to hold
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nothing's as rude as the cold
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stupidly beautifoolish true you
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maybe madness is a heart
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maybe heaven is a habit
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if i could fly i'd live in the sky
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i'd come from why and obviously you do too
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the very start of everything hard could be the slip of a fingertip
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-----------------
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Lonely
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| Frente! |
