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Mr. Jones told me it would all be alright

Someday and somewhere

Cuz someday I would be loved

We all want to be loved

But I won't

I can't

So Mr. Jones was wrong

He lied to me

Tell me more sweet lies

To go with my miseries

Before I cut my wrists

And open them up wide

To smile in the sun

As I silently bleed to death

Under a breathless sky

You're happier I'm not under.



February 3, 2003