I'm crawling out of bed like it's the emergency exit of some big fire at a broadway premiere
notice the big part is the fire, nobody remembers the actors, just the instinct to get the fuck out
and you're telling me to stay behind, i know this isn't right, you can't trick me into my own death
the only treat i'm getting out of this is the whole meet your long lost enemy five years later thing
meeting at a local starbucks, get that jittery/anxious feeling and you havent even had your coffee yet
well sneak your handgun in your coatpocket like they even care "kill us all kid"
i bet you wish you had left your conscience at the door with your coat
its a long way from the front door to the bathroom, can you hold it in?
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