Fractured my skull in seventh grade Never met a bone I couldn’t break One way or another Undercover Masochist Hold my phone, I’ve got this Always Making yesterday’s mistakes again You know what it takes to lose a friend Staged a perfect picture I played the fool unknowingly Wielded your words like weapons False profession Accidental confession I was never meant to see Put a message for a bottle on a billboard by I-70 Slipped your hand in the hornet’s nest All that’s left is soured honey And I’m a Voyeur to your self-destruction Can’t escape the world you grew up in An eternal traffic circle we’re all stuck in Too afraid to leave A freeze-dried legacy Stocked in aisle 9B Three Ninety-nine Breakdown in the checkout line Hear your bid and double mine Out of spite, out of time Out of believable reasons why Thought you planned the perfect crime But I am not your alibi Anymore
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