what if love is being a flirt and everyone is impressed,
but you're not even trying cause you're fucking depressed.
this is my sixth whiskey. count it, drink number seis.
it's not a sprint, it's a marathon- i'm running in place.
get fucking replaced. welcome to the world, it's particularly cold,
and nothing explains why you're emitting a glow
you're a visiting soul
trapped in familiar haunts
but living is gold with a million in bonds
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