I close gently in my hand
what I intend to keep
and let fall the rest
from basements backrooms and these cruel extremes
take these thoughts from my head
In the morning I see clearly
that all is wrong
and I´m just another going down
The perfume from the cut
makes me ache
Whiskey clouds thought
drive reason away
Your love is as twisted as the world I see
and all your touch is apology
In the morning I see clearly
that all is wrong
and I´m just another going down.

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