You're like a constant crowding consonant
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I'm a claustrophobic; I, I said
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We're as comfortable as wool warming naked indifference
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Thank God your words have come to rescue me from my sentence
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You're like a two stepping tongue on a flesh dance floor
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You're the eulogy I can't avoid anymore
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That tumor in my side celebrating malignance:
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"Surprise! I'm moving in; I think I've grown on your parents"
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You want to talk about all the feeling I'm feeling
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I'm a passed out priest in an AA meeting
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And they're checking my pulse, trying to make a decision
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I've got those rolled back eyes but nothing's clouding my vision
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You're like a knock at the door in the middle of dinner
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From the friendly registered sex offender
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All equipped with a mustache and a windowless van
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You're telling me how much you've changed
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I'm trying to hide the crayons and no you can't come in
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I'm like your neighbor's hands on your father's throat:
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"Sweetie, you go back inside, see this is just for adults"
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So adult is what we'll be, domestic violence in denim
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Each tumble down the stairs appeals your puff paint addendum
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You say I'm your backpack caught on a chain link fence
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But dear I'm a thank you card in the future tense
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I'm jumping out of cakes serving divorce papers
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I'd say I love you too but I'm all out of favors
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You want to talk about all the feelings I'm feeling
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Like your chalkboard wrists but I don't tally the meaning
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You keep forgetting the plot, let alone the long sleeps
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My eyes, they only know three words and each is pronounced "Please!?"
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And I would walk you home if I could find my crutches
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Probably listen more if you didn't talk so much
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Why don't you show yourself out
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How can you cry now, this whole thing's been such a drought! Alright!
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You want to talk about all the feelings I'm feeling
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You're a phone call home after eight long seasons
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There's a mail order bride and a baby that's teething
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Said the smog, it hurts your eyes, so on the next train you're leaving
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I'm not certain it's the smog, more just the constant grieving
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But first you're dropping off the kid, sticking me with the feeding
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I said, oh God damn it you're so mean
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You say I'll lose the Christian crowd if I say things like these
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But I've already lost them, I couldn't care less
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I guess my path, it just got wide, so I'll just wish you all my narrow best
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I guess that's it
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Talk About
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Dear and the Headlights |