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enemies and tepid dreams cannot find me here, all i do is laze about, i never have no fear
every day i lock the door, i’d rather stay inside, looking for the dirty secrets deep within my mind
and i know what i say i will show what i mean
i would feed the canaries even though they’re dead, thinking about those bloody books that i haven’t read
and about those decent men that i haven’t met,
if i died here in my flat i would be quite sad
and i know what to say
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