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Your Favourite Joke
by
Grace Petrie
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Find me sitting on my own examining All the holes and imperfections in my skin Trying to figure out exactly where you got in And left me in the state, the state I'm in The state I'm in, the state I'm in No electricity or gas will heat this room All the power in the world couldn't light this tomb Where I exist and try to twist my bitterness around a tune These days the only thing I dedicate to you is my wounds Is my wounds, is my wounds Even after loyal anger has dissolved to hurt Leave me lying, ever crying in the broken earth I'll still be writing songs about you that you don't deserve 'Cause I'm your favourite joke and you're my life's work You're my life's work, you're my life's work You're my life's work You're my life's work
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