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lyrics
I’ve been destitute but never broke beyond repair
A hollow body is an shell empty 'til it finds purpose in the air
So fuck fresh starts, all fairytales, false hope and make-believe,
I'll double down on this weary body to see what it might bring
I’ll open up, knowing I’m bound to fall,
And when the concrete tears this flesh, I’ll paint a portrait with the blood
I’ll try again, expecting the same results
But when that blood it dries, I’ll have made something to call my own
Woah...
when they built this body, they used 90% spare parts
But they made the mistake of giving it a boiler room for a heart
I’ve got a deviated septum and a pocketful of wild ideas
But I’ve developed quite a talent for building something outta broken things
So if you say I’ve lost my touch
In my defense I never had it
And though you claim that I’m coming undone
Well, it was always a part of the package
‘Cause if you wanna know the honest truth, I think composure is fucked and symmetry is kinda dull...
I mean for what it’s worth
I’ve been destitute but never broke beyond repair
A hollow body is an empty until it finds purpose in the air
So fuck fresh starts, all fairytales, false hope and make believe,
I double down on this weary body to see what it might bring
I’ll swim out to sea, knowing the waves are far too tall,
And sure I’ll probably drown, but there’s a chance that I might just evolve
I’ll try again, when this body washes up ashore
Cause as the water leaves your lungs, it’s almost as if you’ve been reborn.
Woah...
when they built this body, they used 90% spare parts
But they made the mistake of giving it a boiler room for a heart
I’ve got a deviated septum and a pocketful of wild ideas
But I’ve developed quite a talent for building something outta broken things
So if you say I’ve lost my touch
In my defense I never had it
And though you claim that I’m coming undone
Well, it was always a part of the package
‘Cause if you wanna know the honest truth, I think composure is fucked and symmetry is kinda dull…
Woah
I know it feels hopeless trying
But in the absence of callings
There’s a certain beauty in broken things
Every torn seam
I know it feels hopeless trying
But in the absence of callings
There’s a certain beauty in broken things
Every torn seam… and each mistake!
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