Aren't

Bless all your hearts. Torn apart. Apart from me.
Bless all your hearts, mine are tore apart.
Apart from me. Apart from me.

All in all it ain't much to see.
The condescension inherent to me.
From a cold, aged, withered man.
Smiles with his pockets in his hands.
The pictures he keeps, the times that he had.
The more he thinks, puts his head in his hands.
Squandered away, the years they've been cruel.
Amassed nothing but guilt, severed friendship charade.
Steady there now, put that bottle away.
Get some rest.
Quiet down, lying down, lying down.

You aren't the one you claim to be.
You arent the one you claim to be.
You aren't the one you claim to be.
You aren't the one you claim to be.



Credits
Writer(s): Kevin Michael King
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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