A heart that's full up like a landfill. A job that slowly kills you, bruises that won't heal. You look so tired-unhappy. Bring down the government, they don't, they don't speak for us. I'll take a quiet life, a handshake of carbon monoxide. With no alarms and no surprises, no alarms and no surprises, no alarms and no surprises. Silent silent.
This is my final fit, my final bellyache.
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