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Nothing matters

Paint splatter

Cast pattern

Grey matter

Rotten to the bone

Dry to the core

How long can this last

This tight rope dance

Judge, jury, I’ve been the executioner

I’ve been the prisoner

Of my own mind

Hard motherfucking times

Someone call the warden; I think we found ourselves a runner

Shallow dreams; shallow hopes

Shallow expectations; shallow goddamn results

You’re not running fast enough, your shadow is keeping up

Someone call the warden; I think we found ourselves a runner