| The gasoline is mixing with the oxygen
|
| In this carousel the silence is so surreal
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| I’ve been misled down empty streets
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| To a heart that never beats with a body that I can’t keep
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| And we’re blessed with these, these horrors for highways
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| This city turns, no longer content to just brush shoulders
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| Have we lost our touch?
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| A light goes on, we throw our blankets aside
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| And it’s been hours now and we still know nothing
|
| We still know nothing
|
| The scars just don’t heal the same when we collide
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| I’d never say that we step to the other side
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| To keep us from brushing shoulders
|
| Well, it’s collisions we need to remind us that we’re alive
|
| I’ll never say that you make me sick
|
| But you’re turning all the questions to cancers, whoa
|
| Someone call in the emergency
|
| And we’ll peel back the dressings so we can see
|
| The kind of things that the surgeons see
|
| When the blood work won’t give us the answers, whoa
|
| They’ll never tell us, 'cause they don’t know what’s killing us
|
| My heart’s at a million miles an hour and we brace for the impact
|
| It makes time stand still
|
| Forcing momentum into a moment
|
| So for a split second I see your face
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| In between all the broken glass, hanging like a mobile
|
| And this is a picture we’ll never quite forget
|
| The surgeons pick, they pick at my body
|
| (Their fingers dance, they dance all around me)
|
| The surgeons pick, they pick at my body
|
| (Their fingers dance, they dance all around me)
|
| Hold still while they pick at my body
|
| (Their fingers dance, they’ll dance all around me)
|
| Hold still while they pick at my body
|
| They’ll dance all around me
|
| Breathe your anesthetic words to slow us down
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| Tear back the skin to find the chase, a pulse back home
|
| I’ll never say that you make me sick
|
| But you’re turning all the questions to cancers, whoa
|
| Someone call in the emergency
|
| And we’ll peel back the dressings so we can see
|
| The kind of things that the surgeons see
|
| When the blood work won’t give us the answers, whoa
|
| They’ll never tell us, 'cause they don’t know what’s killing us |