| When I came to you there in that cold
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| Telephone pole horror of the night
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| And you came out to meet me
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| In that filmy thing and sat down on the porch swing
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| And I knew the moon would melt
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| Before I held you to my breast, like that again, yeah
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| Why could I not die then, warm, behind the curtains of your hair
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| When we stopped the clock on that cold rock
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| Mixed our hot young blood with granite dust
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| And I raised my head to kiss the sweat
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| That hung like honey from your Goddess brow
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| And I knew the mountain side would be
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| Ten million years of dust and rust before I took you up there again, yeah
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| Why could I not die then, warm, behind the curtains of your hair
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| Instead I was found dead and well
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| Carrying on my life, with much gusto and death breath
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| Buried without casket and no one writes my epitaph
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| Cause they heard that I’m still breathing and they think that means,
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| I’m still alive
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| I’m still alive
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| And I knew the mountain side would be
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| Ten million years of dust and rust before I took you up there again
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| And why could I not die then, warm, behind the curtains of your hair
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| Why could I not die then, since it doesn’t really matter where |