| I could be the tiger, I could be the snake
|
| I could be the fire, I could be the lake
|
| I could be the sky-bird waiting on the wind
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| I could be the devil waiting to begin
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| See, I was the wounded master, oh then I was the slave
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| My hands and my mouth, aw honey, they would not behave
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| See, I was the holy writer then I was the page
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| I was the bleeding actor then I was the stage
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| But now you’re telling me my heart’s sick
|
| And I’m telling you I know
|
| And you’re telling me you’re leaving
|
| And I’m telling you to go
|
| And I’m not so sorry for the heart-wreck
|
| But for each season left unblessed
|
| The new terror in the canyons
|
| The new terror in our chests
|
| I could be the tether, I could be the place
|
| I could be forever or just a couple days
|
| I could be the morning that breaks upon your skin
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| I could be the devil and do it all again
|
| See, I was the wounded master then I was the slave
|
| My hands and my mouth, aw honey, they was caught in a rage
|
| See, I was the holy lion then I was the cage
|
| I was the bleeding actor then I was the stage
|
| O but now you’re telling me my heart’s sick
|
| And I’m telling you I know
|
| And you’re telling me you’re leaving
|
| And I’m telling you to go
|
| And I’m not so sorry for the heart-wreck
|
| But for each season left unblessed
|
| The new terror in the canyons
|
| The new terror in our chests |