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A half empty glass where my heart should be should show you what I mean when I say I don't want you next to me, it's the thought of the last time you parked your car on my cold, dead street. I hate to blame you, but I tried to burn it down and the past keeps putting it out. Sick of saying the same things over and over again, but I hate to blame you for making me feel this way. While you were pushing the weight out of me I was waiting for you to change
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