| Victorian ice and Edwardian snow
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| You’ll find yourself asking
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| Is there something below?
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| Cause your surface area is like old whale bones
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| Preserved in museums, they’re so totally cold
|
| Oh I, oh I, settled down over there
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| Won’t you hold your baby closer?
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| I know I, I need you
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| But you better keep moving before you get totally cold
|
| And you better start growing up before you get old
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| Totally wicked and equally ace
|
| Hoopoes and herring gulls over chalky cliffs
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| It’s all that’s left you know, carbonate and myth
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| Whitebait and cockleshell, washed up like a gift
|
| Secret histories arrive by longshore drift
|
| Oh I, oh I, settled down over here
|
| Won’t you hold your baby’s hair
|
| Oh I, know I, I need you
|
| And you better keep moving before you get totally cold
|
| Oh, you better start growing up before you get old
|
| But you still don’t understand
|
| No, you still don’t understand
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| Totally wicked and equally ace |