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Psychological CasketI sit here in this psychological casket,
Maybe it's an urn, maybe it's a basket.
Either way, I've noticed just one little thing,
The world has clamped down my throat and won't let me sing.
I walk around with a smile on my face,
Keeping beat with the low sounding bass.
If only they knew what was inside,
The sadness I feel, the pain I hide.
I know there are people who are willing to hear,
My innermost thoughts and my deepest fear.
But what good is trying to express and explain yourself,
When most of those feelings are locked away up on a shelf?
I wish I could talk to you,
About everything in my brain.
But I can't even organize my thoughts,
Let alone keep myself sane.
So yes, I sit in a psychological casket,
I don't care if it's an urn or if it's a basket
I just want to fly away to a whole new world,
Where my life would be perfect and hair not so curled.
Of course, I'd be there along with you
We'd be together with a love so true
My life wouldn't be so far in the ground,
I'd keep the beat
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