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The Lawrence Arms Lyrics

4. Asa Phelps Is Dead



Hey brother can you spare the time? 
Skin and bones that's melting in a backwards way to grow. 
Out of heart and out of mind, 
And kiss me in the rear view when you go 

Dying at 23, 
I'm trying on my apathy with a tired conversation floating in this ether sky, 
Tried again too many times, and doesn't it get worse 
Sit and stare 

Seems like we're running out of dimes. 
Bodies that we burn as fuel, irreversible decline. 
Pocket lint and turpentine 
Warm my insides, wash these ashes from my eyes 
Death with an attitude, I'm putting on my Sunday suit 
Tired as a conversation held one too many times
A year or two or three or ten or twenty more
Waiting


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