Nutshell
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We chase misprinted lies
We face the path of time
And yet I fight, and yet I fight this battle all alone
No one to cry too
No place to call home
Woooo... Woooo...
My gift of self is raped
My privacy is raked
And yet I find, yet I find
Repeating in my head
If I can't be my own
I'd feel rather dead