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I’m trying to find truth in words, in rhymes, in notes, in all the things I wish I wrote, cause I feel like I’ve been losing you. Each night it ends too soon. You don’t hold me like you used to and your eyes look like they’ve seen too much but, it’s always some excuse. Too tired, too obtuse. You look so far removed. This time I fear I’m just not getting through.
I’mm nicotine… I’m a cash machine
I’m the color green
and you should’ve seen the looks I just received
I need a reason to let go
an intervention, or a lullaby
something to cure me, please believe me—Gahhhhh I love The Format
