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lyrics

Behold the dead man,
the present absentee
whose only passion
is apathy

He’s too softhearted
to afford a soul
There’s nothing
quite as reckless,
quite as frightening
as a heart
behind the controls

He has locked the door
and thrown away the key
He’s hoping prison
will set him free

He’s too softhearted…

The trick,
it seems, is to believe
it’s all for the best;
to enjoy every depression
as if it were the last
But, alas

He’s too softhearted
to afford a soul
There’s nothing
quite as ruthless
quite as frightening
as a heart
taking hold

credits

from The Vocabulary of Madness, released November 4, 2022

license

all rights reserved

tags

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