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lyrics
Unfriend me.
I’m living for allocated Diet Cokes now.
They pilled me down and out
and I got no shoe strings
but I got demons drowning me in an inch of water.
Everything tastes like quarters.
Remember: “It’s not me. It’s the disease.”
“Amazing Grace” reverberates off the marble
and fresh polished metal
where I keep catching my reflection
and, sure, I’ve got a dead man’s eyes,
but I’m still breathing.
I’m still breathing
and goddamn I wish that was enough,
41 northbound back to my baby,
headache visions of taillights and rent checks.
Phone rings and she’s got to work a double,
“Yeah, of course hun, I can do the dishes.”
If I could just hold on
to the space between the notes.