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    It?s hard to say what?s real these days
    My mind can be a dangerous place
    She?s too naive for suicide
    But god I wish that bitch would die

    Give me, give me, give me, give me a reason
    Why every night I?m losing sleep
    God damn she?s on to me again
    Or maybe I had too much to drink
    You see I think I figured out
    I figured out as I was thinking
    How to stop her piercing voice
    From everything that she was stealing
    Get the gun, get the gun, get the gun
    Is all I?m hearing again and again you know

    I used to be such a hopeless man
    And she used to be such a sweet, sweet thing

    She?s too naive for suicide
    But god I wish that bitch would die
    Shot gun shells, yeah it?s alright
    The whiskey says, ?Let?s take her fuckin? life.?

    One thing I do remember
    Is that things never get better
    And I got to make the voices, make the voices for the maker
    Of the maker making voices, making voices
    Gotta make her, gotta, gotta make her stop
    Before my head comes caving in again

    You can walk this world all alone
    But I can still hear her, tearing me apart

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