Lyrics Running - IAMX
                                                You 
                                                sing 
                                                for 
                                                me 
                                                my 
                                                friend
 
                                    
                                
                                                Brave 
                                                and 
                                                confident
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                there 
                                                is 
                                                comfort 
                                                between 
                                                your 
                                                breaths
 
                                    
                                
                                                    A 
                                                naïve 
                                                sense 
                                                to 
                                                help
 
                                    
                                
                                                But 
                                                when 
                                                the 
                                                days 
                                                beneath 
                                                me
 
                                    
                                
                                                Scream 
                                                into 
                                                my 
                                                present
 
                                    
                                
                                                    I 
                                                must 
                                                always 
                                                run 
                                                the 
                                                race 
                                                on 
                                                my 
                                                own
 
                                    
                                
                                                Your 
                                                warmth 
                                                is 
                                                in 
                                                my 
                                                bed
 
                                    
                                
                                                Your 
                                                voice 
                                                above 
                                                the 
                                                stairs
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                when 
                                                the 
                                                touching 
                                                becomes 
                                                regret
 
                                    
                                
                                                Becomes 
                                                my 
                                                mercy 
                                                chair
 
                                    
                                
                                                Even 
                                                when 
                                                the 
                                                sun 
                                                is 
                                                burning
 
                                    
                                
                                                Saving 
                                                graces
 
                                    
                                
                                                    I 
                                                must 
                                                always 
                                                run 
                                                the 
                                                race 
                                                on 
                                                my 
                                                own
 
                                    
                                
                                                Oh 
                                                the 
                                                sinking 
                                                and 
                                                descent
 
                                    
                                
                                                Of 
                                                every 
                                                sailing 
                                                word
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                the 
                                                destruction 
                                                of 
                                                all 
                                                convention
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                all 
                                                corrupted 
                                                thought
 
                                    
                                
                                                Dig 
                                                their 
                                                nails 
                                                into 
                                                my 
                                                optimistic 
                                                shell
 
                                    
                                
                                                    I 
                                                must 
                                                always 
                                                run 
                                                the 
                                                race 
                                                on 
                                                my 
                                                own
 
                                    
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