It's always hardest to discuss what you should
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and you're never guiltier than when your intentions are good
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And we're held together
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but my arms don't stretch so far anymore and thought the situation taunts
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and the sleepless energy of a stranger scrawls random letters you avoid
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the self absorbed frenzy of isolation
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grief and nostalgia makes reality of myths
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and turns apology into indictment
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These words kill
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And it makes sense that we're here
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and it makes a mess to deny how far we're come
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and how much further we've to fall
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4A-030401
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Hot Cross |