"There's a clamp around my chest
That tightens every time I lapse into
Another sorry story
About my miserable collapse
A bronze box I keep encased in glass
And dust off whenever I want your pity
'Cause lately I've had to come to grips with scope and figure
How my problems stack up in a world two steps from ruin
(Or maybe it's rapture)
Well, either way, I realize that my shit's about as small as it could be
But that makes me feel worse for even feeling this bad in the first place"
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