| The windows are ringing, shaking night-nites for angels
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| Rattling throats up and down on a beam
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| Cooling the hearts, cooling the plasma
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| Keeping ice junkies packed hard on a seam
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| The other side of a prowler, the dead still search the living
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| At least there we did not not fail
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| Coming to in the overcast, tracks are still flowing
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| At least there he does not wail
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| Psalms of your hands sung into the lateness
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| Move a circuit on the white and he can’t feel a thing
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| Gone always alone to all you are never
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| He climbs into your mouth when the windows ring
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| The windows are ringing, shaking dead men for angels
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| Hissing brains boiling up press’t to the bone
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| Uncoils the wire whole night long
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| Bumping out thru the eye in knots
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| Sweet hot numbers, sweet hots
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| Bumping out thru' the eye on a wire of knots
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| Sweet hot numbers, sweet hots
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| Bumping out thru' the eye on a wire of knots
|
| Psalms of your hands sung into the lateness
|
| Move a circuit on the white and he can’t feel a thing
|
| Gone always alone to all you are never
|
| He climbs into your mouth when the windows ring |