Flattered that you think I warrant ugliness.
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Gutters drain west, mud made a mess of us.
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It's time to leave this place.
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I'd saw through your wrist to find a better trap that fits.
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I'd saw through your traps to find a better you.
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A part of you that lasts.
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I saw through your trap and into my own wrists.
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Saw we were through, red ribbons spill to blue:
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A sight to sore your eyes.
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I got this dress.
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I'm hiking it around this waste of laughter.
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Slow dance alone with no one to the sound of four hands clapping.
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Congratulations to you both, I hope someway you're happy.
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If there's a moral to this story then I wish you'd show me.
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Hair in the blood, fly in the disappointment.
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Rubber, I'm glue.
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I'll write the book on you.
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It's sticking to my face.
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You need a little less than what you take for granted.
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This is the sip that's drinking back from you,
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Blacken out your eyes.
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You need a little more suppression of you appetites.
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This is your honeymoon, in separate rooms,
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It's neither sweet nor bright.
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I made a word to give this state a name, this game a guess.
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I call it "sluttering."
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It means as little as your little test.
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You are your worst revenge.
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Your very means, they have no ends.
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This is a story you won't tell the kids we'll never have.
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If you hear this song a hundred times it still won't be enough.
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-----------------
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Sluttering
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Jawbreaker |