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about
I got drunk and wrote this at a poetry reading on a disposable tablecloth.
lyrics
A tourist in the trenches
Only suffers for so long
Forfeiting present tenses
For the sake of sadder songs
Trying to number every birthmark
Hoping it makes sense
When you draw the lines
Pretend that I’m fine
I swear that I’m fine
Feed my common sense to animals
Make things better for something else
Put up a wooden cross
To take my thoughts
To feel more uncertain of myself
I feel uncertain of myself
I pray for second chances
But I’m always wasting time
I’ve been told it doesn’t wait for me
And for the first time that doesn’t feel like a lie
I might not feel it in the morning
I might be laughing in a year
But I only care ‘bout how I feel right now
And it hurts like hell right here
If you were a chasm
And not a parachute
Maybe it would hurt less
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