I have this thing where I get older, but just never wiser
Midnights become my afternoons
When my depression works the graveyard shift all of the people
I've ghosted stand there in the room
I should not be left to my own devices they come with prices and vices
I end up in crisis (tale as old as time)
I wake up screaming from dreaming one day I'll watch as you're leaving
'Cause you got tired of my scheming (for the last time)
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