These hands are broken and calloused
But nobody seems to notice
And you yelled it into permanence
Have you ever come to hate the very
Thing that you helped to create?
Cause that’s how I feel everyday
I am expendable, but I guess
That’s just the way things go
I’m a ghost in foreign postal codes
Losing faith in what brings you hope
A strong comment here is specific: the phrase you keep hearing, the mood you come back for, or the reason this song stays in rotation.
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