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The Abstracts
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Sick of Second Best
Oh I'm sick of second best So far the tree of destiny has dealt a cardiac arrest I'm so sick of getting undressed into an empty room Awaiting only pleasures of the fist
It goes a little something like this Oh trust me you won't be missed
But darling don't you ever cry for me The mourning will simply carry me
So I start up a brand new day I drop the rhetoric as I bathe in a beautiful cliché I tried and tried it my own way self-will will be the death of me Find more lyrics at ※ Mojim.com but in a non off-handish way
It goes a little something like this Oh trust me you won't be missed
But darling don't you ever cry for me The mourning will simply carry me
It goes a little something like this Oh trust me you won't be missed
But darling don't you ever cry for me The mourning will simply carry me
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