| A new page, a new day.
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| Drained, down to my last eyes,
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| But it still doesn’t go away,
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| (What am I doing here?)
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| But it still doesn’t go away,
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| (Who am I pleasing here?)
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| Tortured souls from day one.
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| If this world is right then I’m his bastard son.
|
| Tortured souls from day one.
|
| If this world is right then I’m his bastard son.
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| Pull out my lungs look behind my eyes,
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| Searching for something to fill the void.
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| Searching for something inside of me,
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| Separating from what’s outside of me.
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| Hoping that one of these days,
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| I’ll find out how to feel that way.
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| Tortured souls from day one.
|
| If this world is right then I’m his bastard son.
|
| Tortured souls from day one.
|
| If this world is right then I’m his bastard son.
|
| And this is everything,
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| It’s not meant to be.
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| Growing up is getting old to me.
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| And this is everything,
|
| It’s not meant to be.
|
| Growing up is getting old to me.
|
| And this is everything,
|
| It’s not meant to be.
|
| Growing up is getting old to me.
|
| And this is everything,
|
| It’s not meant to be.
|
| Growing up is getting old to me.
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| What use is time with no motivation?
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| What use is life with no inspiration?
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| Is death the only thing that drives us on?
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| This growing up is getting older, and older, and older.
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| What use is time with no motivation?
|
| What use is life with no inspiration?
|
| Is death the only thing that drives us on?
|
| This growing up is getting older, and older, and older… |