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Sleeping with the lights on, passed out on the couch.
Waking up, my head felt like a sack of bricks, like a thousand pounds.
Feeling like a picture doesn't take much time.
Again, I discover everything I try to say gets convoluted anyway.

When I try to retrace all my thoughts,
pencilmarks fade.
When I wanna discover where I've gone,
It'll be late.

Cause lately I haven't been sure of what I should,
been sure I'm doing good.

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