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Poor Me Songtext

I'd rest on my laurels
Let some keen wit
And crying awful pity sustain me
But my memories leak like a sieve
And fuel this fire
It's deep and heavy roar defies me

Let's not talk in vain about the weather
Let's take my tired soul off of it's tether

Poor me
Poor me

I can't reach the ends of this
But if I didn't
It would be the end of me
I need to feen infatuation
Stoke the coals
Of curiosity and longing

Let's not talk in vain about the weather
Let's take my tired soul of it's tether

I need the glory
With lights aglow around me
My halo shining brightly
In tribute to myself
No, I can't have pity on me
So tell me another story
And I'll accept gladly
And thank you for the help

Poor me, Poor me
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Album Dead Flowers, Bottles, Bluegrass, and Bones (2003)

Swingin' Utters
  1. 1.
    No Pariah
  2. 2.
    Glad
  3. 3.
  4. 4.
    Dead Flowers, Bottles, Bluegrass, and Bones
  5. 5.
    All That I Can Give
  6. 6.
  7. 7.
    Don’t Ask Why
  8. 8.
  9. 9.
  10. 10.
    Heaven at Seventeen
  11. 11.
    Leaves of Fate
  12. 12.
    If You Want Me To
  13. 13.
  14. 14.
    Poor Me
  15. 15.
    My Closed Mind
  16. 16.
  17. 17.
    Shadows and Lies
Swingin' Utters - Poor Me
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