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This may read like an epitaph, a commemorative telling on my behalf.
But before this thing gets dated and printed,
Were going to need a few more witnesses.
My eyes are weak, so I could never focus
On decisions that have left me hopeless.
Ive chiseled my initials in the shovel
That Ive been using to dig my own hole.
Driving faster in the wrong direction,
Convincing them this was expected.
Ive lost my mirrors through the crashes,
So looking back just cant happen.
Living up to how we feel about ourselves:
One foot in the grave; one foot in our mouths.
When you hear those sirens, just know that theyre for us.
Youll know who we are by the mark on our sleeve,
In the shape of a heart that never could beat.
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