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Household
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Dry Eyes
I get no respect behind my back I think it's due time to grow up Confess the courage that I lack in my choices, my weak will My tendency to tear through nothing
I made my bed and I will die in it
We all grow old if given the chance Pray with tired voices and folded hands Father
Perceptions add up and maul on top of each other Find more lyrics at ※ Mojim.com Like blankets upon weaving others have stitched together I am biased and bullied by barely anything Yet I let it, let it get the best of me
My hands were once lifted high Now they lay low like my spirit They dangle at my side
My hands were once lifted high And I will lift them again
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