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I thought it made me strong,
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invincible.
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I'm the weakest thing on earth.
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But the rush, the fantasy of how I'd kill, when I'd kill,
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it's gone.
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It's like I snapped out of twilight sleep,
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and now I can hear people whimper,
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see the fear in their eyes.
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I hate what I am...
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what I've become.
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I can't stop. I can't fight it.
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Not by myself.