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He treats you like you're best friends
How long will you let him
As if it wouldn't be sad to see him go
Instead of thinking what to do
You think he doesn't mean that much to you
So as not to feel so alone
Little miss workaholic
At least that's what you call it
When people ask you say you're feeling fine
Instead of an addiction
It's more like a disposition, or propensity
To distract yourself all the time
Whispering sweet nothings to yourself
Is what you're doing, dear
I said you're whispering sweet nothings to yourself
That's what you're doing, dear
What are you doing?
This one's about the lost boy
Call him Mr. Killjoy
Although it's always sad to see him go
He'll treat you like you're best friends
As long as you let him
So as not to feel so alone
Takes a shower 'cause he's filthy
Today he's feeling guilty
Tells himself he's gonna play it straight
And tells you that he's sorry
Invites you to his party
Pretending to himself and you he's changed
Whispering sweet nothings to yourself
Is what you're doing, dear
You know you're whispering sweet nothings to yourself
That's what you're doing, dear
What are you doing?
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I'm feeling off my head
Before i went out should've ate something
Now i'm all dizzy and conflicted
Should i just go home or make a new friend
Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up
Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up
Shut up, shut up, shut up
Anything that you could say
Would only result in you looking
Like you're drunk
Give up, give up, give up, give up
Give up, give up, give up, give up
Give up, give up, give up
Why don't you? You may as well give up
And go on as if you don't
Give a single fuck
I'm feeling off my head
And there's no excuse for me to be here again
Now I'm all, guilt-stricken in my bed
'Cause i took you home at the evening's end
I'm such a dickhead
Would you please remind me why we're still friends, 'cause i don't know
Speak up, speak up, speak up, speak up
Speak up, speak up, speak up, speak up
Speak up, speak up, speak up
I've fooled myself twice already and this time i can't deny it
Shame on me for pretending not to know myself when confronted by Truth
With the Sun's rising, the cock's crow has struck a dissonant chord with my thought
Stopping in my tracks, I am paralyzed by Revelation
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