What’s right is together, but together isn’t right.
Judgement and suicide.
Flight or fight.
Work on me, work on you, but we always end up making two. Not one, not three, not seven or nine, I know I wish I could just make you mine.
Loss of power, loss of soul, damn this heart feels so cold. Because what’s right is together, but fear steps in, making everything good, lost again.
Lost soul, you feel so old.
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