| Like a wandering holy man
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| I search your traces across the land
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| My bones are showing right through my skin
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| My eyes are opened up from where I’ve been
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| If you work out the triangulation
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| Bounce the sonar off the bottom of the seas
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| In the sky the searchlight’s sweeping
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| In the hope you’re coming back to back to me
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| Like strangers, like stars in reverse
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| Blue light is shifting towards me
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| If I could I’d throw galaxies down at your feet
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| Beg, I’m begging for your starlight
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| Tell me, when do we come out right?
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| Legs will move in your direction
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| No saints will give me their protection
|
| Beg, I’m begging for your starlight
|
| Tell me, when do we come out right?
|
| Legs will move in your direction
|
| ‘Cause no saints will give me their protection
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| From the macro to the microscopic
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| I search for you between every grain of sand
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| I work your subject into every topic
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| Think time is money? |
| Try me, try me honey
|
| Like strangers, like stars in reverse
|
| Blue light is shifting towards me
|
| If I could I’d throw galaxies down at your feet
|
| Beg, I’m begging for your starlight
|
| Tell me, when do we come out right?
|
| Legs will move in your direction
|
| No saints will give me their protection
|
| Beg, I’m begging for your starlight
|
| Tell me, when do we come out right?
|
| Legs will move in your direction
|
| ‘Cause no saints will give me their protection |