I've become my favorite stranger just when things are getting desperate.
I've become my most hated rival just when it seemed like I could finally put it to rest.
And there is little control when something is driving you.
And there is little to tell when you wear your heart on your sleeve.
I'd like to know that this is real, to be above your suspicion.
But I won't live my life for you and I won't sing this song for you.
Why can't this just be beautiful?
I guess we need to have our suffering as much as we need to have our bliss.
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