torn between sleep and waking desires
to give of myself
or induced to acceptance
driven to talk to you
in spite of what i see
everything i am
not anything to be
i usually win
but my own demons re-awaken dreams
the suburbs tell me to live
and i tell the same story again
if i could live out my reformitories
they'd be enough to give you a sense of my despair
but i am messed up
and i can't miss the feeling
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