Two jumps and a week - I bet you think that's pretty clever, don't you, boy? Flying on your motorcycle, watching all the ground beneath you drop. Kill yourself for recognition. Kill yourself to never ever stop. You broke another mirror; you're turning into something you are not. Drying up in conversation, you will be the one who cannot talk. All your insides falling to pieces, you just sit there wishing you could still make love. They're the ones who'll hate you when you think you've go the world all sussed out. They're the ones who'll spit at you; you'll be the one screaming out. Don't leave me high and dry. It's the best thing that you ever had. The best thing you have had is gone away.
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