Scraping film away your eyes awake to quite the sight
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a strobing TV static flares the neon motel light
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a tray of ash so full
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a candle burns at both it's ends
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a stack of empty bottles posing in the corner as your friends
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this place is a scene and now you believe
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this place is obscene, and you gotta leave
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"Good Morning" sir the sirens plead as they go laughing by
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through the pane they bleed urgency inside
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the smell of failed attempts and bad decisions
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now only to fill your lungs
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the taste of bitter sweet guilt now resides on your tongue
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this place is a scene and now you believe
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dig your bearings up from beneath the sweaty sheets
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to find the scary freezing holy carpet at your feet
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rise away from last nights tomb to see more in the view
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the resting place of many resonates the morning dew
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find yourself now reaching out for what is real
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your sense of self belongs in a few belongings you can feel
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a broken necklace hugs a lonesome matchbook at the seams
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an empty wallet shows a picture that you've never seen
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this place is a scene and now you believe
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this place is obscene, and you gotta leave
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-----------------
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Good Morning
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Taproot |