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lyrics

i smell bud in the hallway. i can't be myself when you are away. it's okay. we'll do it your way. if i can sleep here i can sleep anywhere. new york slums have pulled me into the flux. the kids that smoke me up, they're all actors for a buck; they don't give a fuck. and i'm rushing down the staircase to the lobby of the George Washington Hotel - this is my hell. East Third Avenue, what's it to you? i burned those papers you needed, you know better than me. (i wish that i was skinny. then i wouldn't need to be cool. and maybe you would need me more than i need you.) i slipped on the black ice, your black eyes, your sharp teeth you sank deep. (i wish that i was sickly skinny ----

[at this point in the record, the hex requests to rewind the tape back. the tape is rewound but, alas, there is none. thus, following as such: ---]

you know i can't meet you, you're not real here. i see things no one sees. i pictured draining the blood from your heart.

[Logan is allowed in the room and the gates of hell are now finally open.]

credits

from THE SPIRIT OF THE BEEHIVE, released August 21, 2014

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RANCH Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

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