I spend time alone. sometimes with the band. sometimes alone. i can't do anything of real use or meaning so i keep on leaving. i've no excuse for this mind of mine that i don't use. if i'm gonna die here tonight among all these people i don't know, did things that i've been told can kill me. then surely, i should feel like a fool. but i don't. 'cause in death we'll find what we want from life, or so i hope.

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