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Sat with an old friend from my childhood home We make a toast to being lonely, because it’s better than drinking alone And wash our hands of your cold company ‘cause it’s what we really need I would be happier knowing this means something But you’re writhing at home all alone So there’s no fucking meaning at all I blacked out over and over There’s a blood stain on my collar line It reminds that I’m hopeful, and I notice it sometimes When I’m bleeding out I colour in my selfish doubt I black it out I blacked out over and over From Letras Mania