Holy! Holy! All the days. Hunting to preserve our youthful haze. We need a fix, but we can’t be fixed. Our medicine does not exist. I can see it, in your eyes, on your skin, in how you dance. I can see it, you don’t look, we never touch. Stranger! Stranger! To this life. Whatever left me has turned off the lights. Half-witted for trying to fight? We’re not alright. And your still too fucking polite. I’m feeling sick to my stomach, I’m feeling sick in my bones. You don’t like the sound of that tone? Have we not screamed enough to catch your eyes? We’re not alone. When I hate myself for the burden that I’ll always be. Second best by your definitions. Well... I won’t rest under those conditions. “It’s gonna be okay”, they said with belittling grace. But I need some space. “It’s gonna be okay”, I wish I could trust your straight face. But I need some space.
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