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Whoa
son' s plight, you create the
facts of my life. I am your wrongs;
I am the soul of the music. When
you cry, I smile. I' m something
between your thoughts, but my words
are yours for the choosing. And
their size decides your all time
low. The twenty people you would
hate to be, it ain' t me. I' m
your self, your conflicted mentality.
A disease? Oh, no. I' m stronger,
A fleck of disgust on your soul.
Where your past and your actions
combine to betray.
And
then you feel yourself going down.
You spin around trying to pinpoint
the enemy, that' s when the
bottom just drops out.
Blow
your time; your lessons learned
are my crime. Truthfulness burns
right through my hopes of you losing,
your right to rise. Something so
fierce as love, Could tear me apart
if you use it with pride, So I' ll
try to reject all. The thousand
people you would love to be, it
ain' t me. I' m lying
in wait for your casualties. You' ll
see what I mean. When you grow old
look back on the love you disposed.
As you fought yourself you were
dishing out the blame.
And
then you' d feel yourself going
down. You' d spin around trying
to pinpoint the enemy. That' s
when the bottom just dropped out.
So you turned to yourself, you turned
to the enemy. When you turn to yourself
you turn to the enemy.
Lets
have a holiday.
>lyrics
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