| It’s just the lack of time I keep
|
| Reaching out, lashing out
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| It’s just the lines run down the walls
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| I can’t believe they never fall
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| The walls never leave
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| And the walls begin to scream
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| Ah, and my toes against the wall
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| I stare ahead the door inside the wall
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| Your face inside the door
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| You crawl across the room
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| The picture never moves
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| My books are very still
|
| You slide to my feet
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| You slide across the floor
|
| I throw your head across the ice
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| I throw my head through a window
|
| Crash like poetry
|
| It’s four o’clock, I’m waiting
|
| Your face appears
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| I keep forgetting your name
|
| While I’m writing this, you
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| You crash through the wall
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| You fall off the floor
|
| I slide your head across the ice
|
| I throw my hands through the window
|
| Crash like gods
|
| A room full of delicate cutters
|
| All sitting down, the room has many doors
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| All but one of them are closed
|
| She goes around
|
| (Remember)
|
| Opening the doors
|
| This has another ending
|
| Full of innocent children
|
| One of them are closed
|
| She goes around
|
| This has another ending
|
| (Remember the room)
|
| Full of delicate cutters
|
| Opening the doors |