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lyrics

She was a foxy little viper
In a drug-induced coma- the only thing that she could call home
No one forced her into it

She was the sniper to my heart
And I was doomed from the start
No question, I was target practice
It was always her plan

Can't get to sleep without having a drink
If I sleep alone again I swear, I'll lose my shit
And I can't picture you anymore
So baby, please come home
Or send a postcard where you're from

So long, so far gone

We were a sad ending fairytale
Even Bukowski couldn't write a novel that would end so poorly
No one should have to live it

She was the calm before the hostage situation
Now I'm stricken by Stockholm Syndrome
It's never healthy- a 10-year-old in therapy

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Racoonhead Singapore

shitty songs from my tiny bedroom

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