| The sound of fingers
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| Scratching slow behind the wall
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| You tried to hold me closer so
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| I wouldn’t heed the call
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| They’re on our doorstep
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| Peaking grinning through the blinds
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| We’ll never wear our skeletons right
|
| We kept our closets locked and tight
|
| Any day now
|
| With the flame of the sun in the south
|
| We’ll take our paces, have it out
|
| The lives of others
|
| With their short hairs entwined
|
| They keep our eyes a-cornered with crows
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| They make the sirens sing and sigh
|
| Any day now
|
| We’ll comb our grey hairs aside
|
| We’re nervous kids who twitch in time
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| We’re phantom limbs that itch at night
|
| Any day now
|
| When the weight comes a tumbling down
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| We’ll skin our knees and beat the ground
|
| Sing it so soft
|
| Clutching hope like a corner of cloth
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| And now i know your peaks and troughs
|
| And the stains that’ll never come off
|
| Just leave it alone
|
| You’ll never save a sailing soul
|
| Such a long face
|
| With a pull like a body in space
|
| The pieces falling into place
|
| Then it came down
|
| With a low, undeniable sound
|
| We’ll go down easy, paint the town
|
| We deserve everything that we found |