I think my brain is rotting in places
I think my heart is ready to die
I think my body is falling in pieces
I think my blood is passing me by
I think my fate is losing its patience
I think the ground is pulling me down
I think my life is losing momentum
I think my ways are wearing me down
But if I gave up on being pretty
I wouldn't know how to be alive
I should move to a brand new city
And teach myself how to die
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