well i wish i could care
but i find i don't mind
that the truth of my lies
has gone left me behind
so sing yourself hoarse
hear the words grow coarse
that forked silver spoon
has corroded remorse
and the funny thing is
i know who's the source
yeah the funny thing is
I know who's the source
I stare at my reflection
who just glares back at me
and i swear that we get along fine
but under closer inspection
theres nothing to see
just his eyes fleetingly meeting mine
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