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I'm not looking for New York City, roaming around the house.
'Been looking for a shop to sell my self-pity, maybe trade it for something else?
I've been living life within a sketch show, picking apart the script.
The props are dull and the jokes aren't funny, suppose that's why I quit
Well I do, what I'd do.
And I don't feel right, spending my days chasing thoughts.
Looking for a while now, not sure what it's about.
The lack of sleep, the ceiling screen, those scenes always weird me out.
Well I do, what I'd do.
And I don't feel right, spending my days chasing thoughts.
I'm not looking for New York City, lying in the tub.
My clothes soaked through but the water keeps filling, and I question, what I'd do.
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