It turns my stomach every night
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like scattering bats in disrupted flight
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the idea of ideas and tired points to pierce the skin
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little children lining up and losing all of their time
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Losing all their time
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I don't have the time for my own lifetime
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when you blink my stay here is over
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batting those long eyelashes, baby save yourself the trouble
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And separate from this strangling cable
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I have won victory over death
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won like an automatic weapon
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fingers itching, itching for my trigger
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I am a firearm, a machine gun
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Walk this tired planet, make sand castles in the tide
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I am not my own, so I will not call this place my home
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I do not belong to me, and I do not have a care to see
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my hands reaching out for wind,
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like you're reaching out for wind
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Counting the days, counting the scars
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counting the miles to get this far
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and looking back at nothing, looking back at nothing
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and I turn to look up at your flags laughing
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thinking of how sad it is to see you capture butterflies in mason jars
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I rip my rib cage open and proclaim, I belong to Christ
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I Am A Machine Gun
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| Showbread |