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Why must I feel numb, done what I've done
I've taken my cues, what I'm supposed to do
Naively assume the narrative's doomed
When I hold the pen, it's throttling you
You never liked me when drunk, I start to believe
You never liked me at all and so I agree
And I'll say "Fuck you," 'cause I know if I don't
I'll probably say something stupid and true
I stand just out of reach of your fists
And take myself away, a gangrenous limb
And dance around the subject, a figure of eight
Describe all the parts of me I'm yet to break
Count all the parts of me I'm yet to break
And count all the parts of me I'm yet to break
You kiss me like it was your job
So tender and carefully, teeth before tongue (I wanna be yours)
Not in the way that the romantics do
But with the grace of a workplace HR dispute (I wanna be yours)
You know, I don't need much more
I wanna be mine, wanna be yours
You know, I don't need much more
I wanna be mine, wanna be yours
I take you for granted
Because the alternative's far more alarming
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