| Take me lying down, lying down
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| I played my heart out on your rib cage an you tried to sing along
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| But the keys I chose: sour notes
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| And your singing turned to moan
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| This is the sound of dying insides
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| Everyone was sleeping.
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| Slaves to a gutted imagination.
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| The light of the television sprayed us into the shadows on a wall.
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| We: new gaceless mannequins.
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| We: new oil spills.
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| With no eyes how is it you cry.
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| With no smile how is it you laugh.
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| Closer now, closer now
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| Our shadows move like one.
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| Back and forth, back and forth, back
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| Our machine lips.
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| I picked the most appetizing flowers from these gardens.
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| I know of virgin thighs.
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| Anointed in your sweat.
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| Sat them in a glass.
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| And took the bench between your hips.
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| We the machine would like to speak.
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| We razorblade choclaes.
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| We watch her in sleep.
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| We’re here to pronounce your children blind.
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| Led them astray and toyed with their lives.
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| We taught them sex and muted their laughter |