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if you talk to symbol/hostility voyeur - ​of montreal lyrics

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if you talk to symbol, tell her i’ve moved on
i’m ghosting her ’cause i want it to be over
we had our laugh, we had our smile
i guess i know that i’m wrong

if she asks, tell her i’m back at home
mostly alone in disruptive thinking
erasing plans, erasing us
i guess i know that i’m wrong

[chorus]
when things are too nice for too long
i lose myself, i lose my what’s good
want to lash out, want to blow things up again
i want to blow them up now
i want to blow them up again

when we made love, i gave you a pet name
that didn’t mean i wanted you to be my dog
needing someone is such a weakness
i guess i know that i’m wrong

[chorus]
when things are too nice for too long
i lose myself, i lose what’s good
want to lash out, want to blow things up again
i want to blow them up now
i want to blow them up again

if you talk to symbol, tell her i’ve moved on
i’m ghosting her ’cause i want it to be over
needing someone is such a weakness
i guess i know that i’m wrong
i guess i know that i’m wrong

thinking of you in the anarchist zone
shooting rockets at a drone
trigger bombs with your flip phone
kissing girls of broken gl-ss
washing off the sarin gas
k!ll the rats, close the gates
erase the united states
from your head
from your head, your head

alone again, with the letter never sent
and me like a swan with a broken neck who keeps singing
even though anyone would hate to hear its song

i read the letter aloud and then burn it
guess i know way too much now to unlearn it
teach yourself how to make love and then earn it
(teach yourself how to make love and then earn it)
see me spark a personality flair
breeding a style n0body would wear
i’m such a mongrel, i don’t really care
(i’m such a mongrel, i don’t really care)
thine eyes say “god, i’m not into this yet”
thine eyes say “kitty fly into my net”
it’s all being recorded, how could we forget
(it’s all being recorded, how could we forget)
i’ve been in the cache where your memories are stored
it’s shocking how little in life we’re adored
if we weren’t filming ourselves, we’d get bored
(if we weren’t filming ourselves, we’d get bored)

there is no anger, no i’m not as fragile as before
i’ve decided not to be a voyeur of this war

alone again, with the letter never sent
and me like a swan with a broken neck who keeps singing
even though anyone would hate to hear its song

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