| There are things that I’ve seen in my head
|
| While I’m sleeping in bed
|
| Do not wither in the morning light
|
| I’m taken back
|
| O I’m taken back
|
| To the dry grass and the shadows
|
| Thinking I’d like to look at your teeth
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| Lined up in perfect rows
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| A maze of childrens' feet in orchard trees
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| Where the flat lands stretch inside your mouth
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| And when you laugh all the star thistles stumble out
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| The flat lands stretch inside your mouth
|
| And when you laugh all the star-thistles stumble out
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| Strong spines of valley hills
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| All overgrown in gold
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| Look softer than a spool of old silk thread
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| But if we walked down with our feet
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| I’d be pullin' spines and barbs and fox-tails from your skin
|
| O if we walked down with our feet
|
| I’d be pullin' spines and barbs and fox-tails from your skin
|
| There are things that I’ve seen in my head
|
| While I’m sleeping in bed
|
| Do not wither in the morning light
|
| I’m taken back
|
| O I’m taken back
|
| To the dry grass and the shadows |