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It shouldn’t hurt me to be free
It’s what I really need
To pull myself together
But if it’s so good being free
Would you mind telling me
Why I don’t know what to do with myself
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lost in space, fading away and receding farther into the background. artificial warmth of smile; the kind you most probably see people and villains in mainstream driven movies that remain behind as an ironic remnant. The girl you will see in photographs from some place trying to be vibrant with a toothy grin, but who is in fact a zipittykrack hornshoe who gives a dog a bone and sing a song of sixpence.
It shouldn’t hurt me to be free
It’s what I really need
To pull myself together
But if it’s so good being free
Would you mind telling me
Why I don’t know what to do with myself