If they hadn't sucked out all the poison From your veins you'd be dead by now You could have the power of the phoenix And the flame if you knew just how
Repeat in defeat with the pots and the pans They're young then they're old then they don't give a damn
Shaken by the clatter of the clinking On the bars of your private jail Searching for a lifeline or a band aid For your sins in the morning mail
They're here and they're now but they're oceans away You'll bleed and you'll plead and you'll beg them to stay
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