He says he wants to get better, but first he has to get a little sicker.
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He holds his tongue like he holds his liquor.
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Too young to call it quits. Too old to settle for nostalgia, so he settles for this.
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Too scared to slow down and find out what he missed.
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No more hiding his medicine under his tongue, because that song's been sung.
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Salutes the angles for his rescue and subsequent protection.
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He'd like to thank the Windy City for blowing this angel in his direction.
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The Ledge
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Paint It Black |