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Your Time Is Gonna Come

Lyin', cheatin', hurtin, that's all you seem to do. 

Max looked out the window of his office and scratched the back of his head. He wasn't sure what he was feeling at the moment since a jumbled amount of thoughts where dancing around his head. The problem was that he wasn't sure if they were his thoughts to begin with. 

Messin' around with every guy in town, 

He could hear music playing in the distance. He finally put it together that it was a soundtrack in his head. Max wasn't sure if it was Elvis singing this song but it sounded like him. 

Puttin' me down for thinkin' of someone new. 

The buzzer on his desk chimed. He ignored it. 

Always the same, playin' your game, 

It was maddening, like a sore festering in your mind for days and unable to scratch it. He figured something was damned up in his mind but he could not pinpoint it. 

Drive me insane, trouble is gonna come to you.