Walking home alone
My hands are cold
I don't know where i stand
I don't have a plan
(But I’m used to it)
The fog in yr eyes
The smoke in mine
There’s a ghost in my head
& it wants you dead
(But I’m used to it)
My hands are cold
I don't know where i stand
I don't have a plan
(But I’m used to it)
The fog in yr eyes
The smoke in mine
There’s a ghost in my head
& it wants you dead
(But I’m used to it)
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