the same hair color, the same tattoosnnyou've got unlimited resources or nothing to losennyou make a choice and you were always afraid of dyingnnand i know i've been distant and i've filled you with doubtnnbut i've been heartbroken and i figured outnnwe all make a choice and i've never been afraid of dyingnnnnnnbut its fine because i'm already hardly alivennand keep on holding on, hostile or withdrawnnnits our will, our way, live through it everydaynnand i don't really care to stop it because we'vennbrought it all on ourselves for so long nnand it helps us to remain valiant nnnnnnharboring affection, you pull me in too deepnnjust for female attention or some form of relief nnand we'll just come back, we're always ashamed of tryingnnits all so familiar, all of this pent-up regretnnbehind last night's mascara and 10 dollar betsnnthat you knew you'd lose, but you've never been ashamed of tryingnnnnnnthe same apprehension, the same subtletynnits been 3 years and you still tread on mennits not a choice, its a struggle to stay consciousnnsome romantic metaphor, its an uncanny signnnbaby, i'll be your muse if you'll always be minennwe spell it out in incoherent love songs