ThereĄŻs a kid within my head with a hatchet to my nerves
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Rebellion fills the songs he sings and, this much I deserve
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With every hack at synaptic gaps, thereĄŻs another to the hairline
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His freckled skin hides an angry side
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And even though he wants me dead IĄŻd kill myself to keep him alive
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Flat out motionless a statue growing mold
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Around me rotates a world with no control
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The forest of my childhood nowĄŻs a filthy parking lot
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What isnĄŻt asphalt is barely connected by deserted grown in stonewalls
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And therein lies a home
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He stumbles the streets alone
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Walking through the backyards circling the brain stem left unto his own
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Motionless a statue growing mold
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Around me rotates a world with no control
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I know, IĄŻll never make it by myself
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But he believes, he believes in one more swing
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Twenty-three atop the peak of nothing guaranteed
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Lets hope at thirty-five my friend inside is still up there and still alive
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IĄŻll pack my bags and run away
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IĄŻll run away, IĄŻll run away
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Out run the axe another day
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IĄŻll pack my bags and run away
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IĄŻll run away, IĄŻll run away
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My Woods
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| No Trigger |