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Goodtime Boys
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Washout
I ride this full train alone
Back to a box
Four walls and silent phone
Pining for pine and dreading the drone
Of flat lines in an empty home
I can't decide how nothing will sit in my mind
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I don't want to be alone but alone I dine
At arms lengths and hair breaths
Each one's closer to death
I can't decide how nothing will sit in my mind
I don't want to be alone but alone I dine, closer to death
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