| I don’t seem to recall waking up
|
| When you passed me the
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| Bucket and I let out my guts
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| There were red litanies and
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| Prayers of lying here forever
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| With lust and alcohol all mixed
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| Up together
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| No I’ve not looked upon there last 2 years
|
| With clearer
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| Solecism or clever tears
|
| More men have seemed to have
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| Taken my mind and my body
|
| Than the thoughts of dying and
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| Becoming somebody
|
| And I wanna, write to you, recite it to you
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| Before I, fight with you
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| Please. |
| You seem to have come out of
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| Nowhere and started
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| Up a fight between us
|
| The ones that redeemed us
|
| Are no longer here
|
| Between our nights round the fire, so
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| Many pills and thrills and musings
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| On how long our youth
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| Will, hold us up before making us
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| Ill and then, crumble
|
| Beneath our facilitating will
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| No I’d never seen so many lights
|
| Incidentally I sold my soul
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| Beneath those lights and every circle
|
| Seemed to be a line
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| Are we fine? |
| Are we searching
|
| For a wall to beam us up
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| Black devil won’t you beam me up now
|
| Hurricane now feed us love
|
| Somewhere in the middle of these dreams
|
| I became, I became, I became so sweet
|
| There was a child behind your soul
|
| Making your eyes look doughy
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| I always fantasised about painting your body
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| An immaculate sculpture, a totem
|
| Like a tiger on a rainbow
|
| Swooning over these shiny romanticisms
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| Then I wake myself up, I make myself up
|
| 'Cause maybe the mate of a soul
|
| Is not as real as hole inside of your heart
|
| Inside of your mind and
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| I’m longing for this richness to find
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| Comfort, wrapped around his words
|
| Wrapped around his eyes, his anger, his truth, his cries and I
|
| Created this minefield
|
| And I wash away every plea to become a scene cause I
|
| Started up in a fucked up fashion
|
| And ended up wanting to be his housewife but
|
| I made my mind up ten years ago and I made
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| Such a beautifully strange life
|
| Because, here I am and I got the sun in my hand
|
| I got the prospect of really becoming
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| Not like the films or the songs or the ideals I made up
|
| I wanna a wall to beam me… |