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Small bolts of blood shoot across The circumference, of his, of his eyes It smelled of fish piss puke and garbage Sidewalk cooking underneath the sunrise It's getting old now, It's getting old now, It's getting old. Don't call me when your moods are properly balanced 'cause I was there now for the worst part of this Conjured confidence walks the sidewalk Holding his breath as the garbage truck passes by His breath now breathes unfulfilment Which for a moment he just pushes aside . It's getting old now, It's getting old now, It's getting old. Instincts read the buckling seams And stitches over the wealth of The healthy and the uninterested Don't call me when your moods are properly balanced 'cause I was there now for the worst part of this Don't call me when your moods are properly balanced 'cause I was there now for the worst part of this I twitch and cling to these, these images that I've foreseen I jump at any noise that the night, the night, it brings I don't wanna hear, I don't wanna hear, I don't wanna hear it anymore I don't wanna hear, I don't wanna hear, I don't wanna hear it any... Conjured confidence walks the sidewalk, Holding his breath as it all passes by (I don't wanna hear) You know, as it all passes by (I don't wanna hear) I don't wanna hear, I don't wanna hear, I don't wanna hear it anymore I don't wanna hear, I don't wanna hear, I don't wanna hear it any... |