Tell myself, on the ride home.
Getting tired, hating all I've known.
Holding on, like it's all I have.
Count me out, when it's clear that I, find it hard to say.
And you, find it hard to care.
I wanted to see something that's different, something you said would change in me.
Wanted to be, anything different, everything you would change in me.
Got this way
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