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Daniel Knox
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You Win Some, You Tie Some
It isn't love
That breaks your heart
It isn't love
That rips your skull apart
It's a self inflicted wound you pay
I guess I'll play the doctor today
It isn't god
Who strikes the match
It isn't god
Who's there to catch you
you use your own two hands to climb
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And knock yourself down every time
Everybody wants
Something pretty
A shiny coin
In a filthy city
But if you want the old authentic feel
I guarantee my ugliness is real
I guarantee my ugliness is real
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