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fitting in hard with harder to come...
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some nights I still can't sleep
and the voices pass with time
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let's drink to the dead lying under the water
the cost of the blood on the
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grew up in this shadow land with a suicide landscape.
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no night too dark, no road too long.
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there she is, well not her exactly, but the box she likes to sleep in.
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and they say,
knock three times on your coffin if you want my love,
twice
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and I'm talking to myself again,
and it's so damn cold it's just not true
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