Try to talk about it…It doesn’t matter anyway. So let’s just forget about it and drown in resent and hate.
You tell me that you’re full of regrets and you can’t let go. I tell you I don’t know if I’m happy but I don’t want to be alone…but we play the game of
who’s gonna take the the fall? Who’s gonna take the blame for all these things that we do and what we try to say? Who’s gonna take the fall? Who’s gonna take the blame?
So every time you lose your pace, I put on a smile and I try to stay sane and while you interrogate your prey, I think of ways to try to escape.
But my friends don’t know me, they accept my apologies, but my friends they know me they’ll see me screaming:
I am a stereotype, my idiosyncrasies have all died. Have all died.
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