my muscles, my heart, my mind and my fight have all gone old.

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i'm so far away that when you rattle me, i've even stopped spewing the shit i used to.

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home is such a distant sound; like an echo dying at the bottom of a dry valley.

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another aeroplane, another phonecall, another tear, another sad song.

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i look at this year and see how empty it has been. how meaningless my strife is.