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    I touch my face,
    I close my eyes,
    I treat my thoughts like a maze.

    Pinned to the wall,
    a sinner and a saint
    interlock their legs.

    And is this what I wanted?
    I can tell it's not but,
    what ever is?
    It's just that I can't
    seem to measure up
    to those fake guitars,
    and falsely broken hearts.

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    And the truth is,
    I'm afraid.
    And the truth is,
    I'd give anything
    to feel brave for just one day in my life.

    Be my be my sequoia tree,
    and I will be will be
    better than I am right now.
    be my be my sequoia tree
    and i will clean, will clean
    these thoughts that make me want to
    stop breathing,
    stop eating.
    I just want to see the sun again.

    And the truth is
    I can't see.
    and the truth is
    I blame clarity.
    becuase it's the only thing thats
    never ever close to me.

    I just want to take a breath and feel the air reach my lungs.

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