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i paint the surface of what i didn't want to see.
i tear out the pages of what i didn't want to read.
i look in the mirror of what i thought was me.
i paint a picture of the way i want it to be
the way i want it to be.
if i knew there was nothing at the other end of this
do you think I'd be here now?
tied up to nothing, i knew there was a condition
when i first looked into it.
what do you think i'm doing now?
tied up to nothing.

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