A slip of a lip can sink a ship. And perhaps this rising tide will raise all these boats, but not mine. And that will be just fine. And as tired as this old ship analogy may be, I'm using it here. For our ship is sinking, our circumstance grows dear. We don't have time to butt our heads.
And we know in our heart of hearts, that we're all fucking fiends in this great big world. And it seems that there's no such thing as innocence. Only varying degrees of truth. And you look like you just saw a ghost. Your eyes cry for mercy, but you'll find none. Not here, not here.
They say it's the thought that counts, but thoughts only go so far.
As we grow old, our beauty steals inwards. I sing this because I care, I swear. And I know this will take some time, I know you think it's okay, but now we're treading water anyway. And I fear the tears we shed tonight won't count, a few weeks from now. Maybe days, maybe hours. And as tired as this ship analogy may be, I'm using it here. For our circumstance grows dear...
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