She's never lonely when she's alone, one-sided talking but she's not
on the phone, kicking and screaming like she's fighting for her life,
but there's no crazy killer coming at her with a knife. Playing the
radio to cover the screams, listen to the girl come apart at the
seams, how many people trapped inside of she? caught back in
childhood fantasy, but being a kid ain't all fun and games, the ones
that did it to her hear her nameing the names. I feel sorry for the girl
next door, but I'm not in love with the girl next door.
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