| You are rocks full of blood,
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| And you’ve got enough to heal this town,
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| But the blood stands cold while our bones all fold.
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| Only now you see I’m an amputee,
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| And I fought before both world wars and mosaic floors
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| I’ve washed my feet…
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| While there are lives to be led and rocks to be bled,
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| By an easily led lonely boy who’d be better off dead.
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| Better off dead
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| I’m tired of the mutes in my life.
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| And I’m tired of this glass body.
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| It’s only transparent from the outside.
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| And my bee-stung lips have sank a fair few ships,
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| While they continue to flap like hummingbird’s wings deep into the night.
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| While there are lives to be led and rocks to be bled,
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| By an easily led lonely boy who’d be better off dead.
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| We could use your blood tonight in this cheap hotel,
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| Our fingers turning white,
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| But by the time your break down our door,
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| We’ll have made our way from the easel to the cutting room floor.
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| We could use your blood to heat this hotel,
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| We could use your blood to paint this house red,
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| We could use your blood to heal this whole town,
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| We could use your blood before we pass out. |