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My Friend Peter

I don't care who you've been sleeping with these days you're outta my hair

It's growing just above my smiling face that I wear

Every night I drink myself to sleep, not thinking about you

Not thinking about anything at allI don't care who you've been dining with these days, it's more than fair

Much rather be drinking anyways with my friend Peter

Who lives so fucking far away, yet not as far as you

Even though you live right down my fucking streetAnd I'm tired of sleeping with myself

I'm tired, all these drinks and drugs no longer help

I'm tired of lying about not thinking of you

Maybe my friend Peter can tell me what to doI don't care who you've been kissing on these days, it's out of my hands

And in my mouth with such a pleasant taste

I need a beer to wash it all away without a trace and then I'll drink 23 more

To wipe this stupid smile off my fucking face

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