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New Low
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Greet Death
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The ceiling’s closing on me like some kind of shell I can’t escape the pull that’s dragging me to hell I keep on working because the money is the pill And never knowing what it is that I want Forever blowing off the things I said I’ll do I wasn’t joking when I said it was dark It’s the small things that dissolve you I’m chasing my shadow I’m riding with the ghost I’m crawling back to the saddle I’m finding a new low I’m finding a new low I found it comfortable My winding down spiral I’m finding a new low
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