Thrice
Can we,
can we kill each other quickly?
Quick enough so I won't feel it?
A shot of strobe light anesthia
and
I'll
be
fine
'Cause I'm beginning to feel cold
My hands are shaking from fear,
white from clutching my pride,
red from cutting you,
and blue from telling lies.
'Cause I'm sick of the StAbB!Ng,
I'm sick of the breaking,
I'm sick of the
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