| The phone’s ringing
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| It’s been ringing all morning
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| And the knocking, it’s not starting, it’s stopping
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| And the screaming, in the streets it’s like barking
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| It’s nothing, they are kissing
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| They don’t hear anything
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| They don’t notice the lightning
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| It’s striking at the silent fighting
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| The everything for control of the ceiling
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| It’s winning, and the rain pours down on her
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| Soak in the carpet, their shoes and the furniture
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| And he needs her to drown out all the water and noise in his head
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| Someone’s choking, someone’s praying so hard
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| They are listening to the stained glass for answers
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| They don’t come in from the walls
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| Which are taking a beating from the wind on the outside
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| And it’s beating, all its way to the break
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| And it’s meeting, that will make them love sick
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| The walls crumbling, they don’t feel anything
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| They feel nothing but the kissing |