| When the hills let go
|
| Slowly fade into the water like some ancient lover
|
| On a ship filled with ghosts
|
| It’s something to behold
|
| When the paper thin girls
|
| With twisting little braids in their hair
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| They take off their coats and throw
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| Pebbles and stones from the side of the boat
|
| Crying out
|
| The stones they float, the stones they float
|
| Oh my God, the stones they float, the stones they float
|
| Down the burning ropes
|
| Past the places where the steal beams meet concrete skies
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| You make your bed under the moonlight
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| I think it’s time we said goodbye
|
| Cause nothing moves in the warm air
|
| And words that once would cut like a knife
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| They just hang in the cloud and you’re
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| Pushed by the lord
|
| But you’re pulled by the crowds and
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| You’re overboard, you’re overboard
|
| Oh my God, she’s overboard
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| My love she’s overboard
|
| She’s overboard
|
| My love she’s overboard
|
| There’s not a shell unbroken
|
| In the valley where my heartache and the timbers lay
|
| It’s not the time to be hanging around here
|
| You know what some might say
|
| That people get too reckless
|
| That even with the simplest of crimes
|
| They leave, blood behind
|
| As I clean the knife for the very last time
|
| I think she knows, I think she knows
|
| Oh my God, I think she knows
|
| I think she knows
|
| Ooohhhhh…
|
| Ooohhhhh…
|
| Ooohhhhh…
|
| Ooohoooo oooohhhh…
|
| Ooohhhhh… |