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Sitting around here with nothing to do.
It's wearing me down dear, just thinking of you,
how it's been so long since I held you close,
how things could go wrong when I need you most.
My devotion is an ocean of uneasiness,
distraction, worry, grief and stress.
For love is sadness. Love is madness.
Love is thinking if I make it through
this hell on earth, it might be worth it.
Who needs happiness? I'd rather have you.
Roaming these hallways with dreams unfulfilled--
why do they always seem so uphill?
A happy existence of peace and goodwill,
me on assistance and you on the pill:
is that so wrong? But no one sees it my way.
"Get a life" is what they say.
Well, I'm all spent, all sentimentally
retarded now, you know it's true.
I may have shot what life I've got, but
I don't want a life, I just want you.
I just want you to be with me here,
and I don't care much if it's not such a good idea.
If falling short of happy is the best that we can do,
who needs happiness? I'd rather have you.
Who needs happiness if I can't have you, too?
If it's true that I have to choose between the two,
who needs happiness? I'd rather have you.
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