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Why do I always have to spell it out for you?
Our story is always changing.
We change it to hide the pain.
And when the truth rears,
its ugly head, itæ¯ all too late.
Too late for the omission,
that you kept inside and wished it wasnæ° you.
Does it seem like the same man?
Doesnæ° seem the same at all.
I can feel myself fall,