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MR. SURGEON
You tell me the pain in my chest will subside
And I’ll forget I ever felt this way
Yet here I am, heartsick, regretful, and betrayed
With you, the filthy surgeon standing over where I lay
I’m vulnerable lying on the operating table
You have scissors and other sharp things in your hands
I cry as you carelessly carve into my skin
But you hush me and hug me and act like you understand
The wound you try to heal only grows worse
You say this is an important operation, but will it work?
Only a bandage covers where I still hurt
Underneath you’ll still see the broken heart and its bloody artwork
Just take your money and run
Take back the pills you prescribe that have no effect
Rip off the bandage and let my dejected heart bleed out
Because no medicine or surgery can cure the girl you left
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