| Wholesome strum of colonies
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| Public holidays, takes the world to bed
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| You can rent your life to death
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| Window-shopping high across the borrowed sky
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| Honestly, we lie through our teeth
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| But our bodies just survive the weeks
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| We all want a space to build a fence around
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| Wooden grin of the thin crowd
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| Feel it beat, beat, beating, beat, beat, beating but
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| It was not a heart, bite out the bone faced bark
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| Honestly, we lie through our teeth
|
| But our bodies just survive the weeks
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| And if we’re rolling over, we’ll meet when we sink
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| Until, until we handover Hanover, we handover
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| Until we handover Hanover, we handover |