The problem isn't a lack of imagination
More a lack of application
So carve up the face and forget the name Believe neither story and tear up the page My ears ring like a broken record
My heart skips like a telephone
You pull my words from between the lines
I the pull the marrow out from the bone
I'm having a hard time finging
New things to yell about
When I can't keep a smile off my face
We make room in our shallow graves
We welcome our pretty imprisonment
Just like we envisioned it
Do tell telephone.
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