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Three Month Weekend

(T. Sly/C. Shiflett/M. Riddle/R. Koff)

It's a Thursday morning, four a.m. and

you wont let me go

if tomorrow comes I guess I'll

never know

even in the darkest hour it's the brightest

time of day

even when I go to bed I'm still awake

Eyes held up with toothpicks and my jaw

is going off

I will never leave you or admit that I

was wrong

There's so many things I'd like to say, I'm

foaming at the mouth

maybe I could write, my pen is

hallowed out

I've got ideas and inventions and I'd use

them if I could

stop waking up the next day when

they're all no good

Please don't say another word, I know

your story well

conversations take two but I'm talking

to myself

Now I need an alibi and everything I

did was true

but every word I said was just a lie

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