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Lyrics
187
there's a chalk outline around my bed because my square life has murdered love
and every available unit is in my apartment looking for proof
that a crime has taken place in this austerely furnished space between the desk, the lamp and the rug
but the trail has gone cold, for reasons we don't know, and we're further from the truth
release the hounds, to track this murderer down, sirens scream in the night,
and I wake up every morning to the yellow police tape on my door
every subway transfer is new evidence, and the feds have been assigned to the case,
and we're wasting tax-payer's dollars as my assailant makes his escape,
but has the world finally caught the perp that it had sought and apprehended the fugitive,
handcuffed by a leaking bank account, and arrested by loneliness.
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