| And although nobody touches
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| Your mind is ragged for riches
|
| Each picture needs its hinges
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| To swing on when you open
|
| The door snores in a door frame
|
| You’re framed by occupation
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| You want the feathers from the duck’s back
|
| Like you need a suit of armour
|
| There’s beauty in your body
|
| But you can’t see it and don’t feel it And you’re looking for something
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| That people can see in you
|
| And who knows what they’re seeing
|
| Without even looking
|
| With forests disappearing
|
| And heavens getting closer
|
| And we aren’t even looking
|
| No wonder you don’t know
|
| There’s beauty in your body
|
| But you can’t see it and don’t feel it And on the streets of Aston
|
| Two lovers slowly walking
|
| From cinema to station
|
| A crusade amongst concrete
|
| Jacob and the angel
|
| The lift doors close behind them
|
| And after love like combat
|
| They step into the shower
|
| There’s beauty in your body
|
| But you can’t see it and don’t feel it You don’t feel good
|
| Like I know you should
|
| Baby it’s you
|
| It’s up to you
|
| As I began to tell you
|
| I saw your eyes glaze over
|
| Like ice across an ocean
|
| Or skaters on a fruit cake
|
| Do you remember childhood?
|
| Did you ever feel good?
|
| If only you could thaw out
|
| The ice age that you live in There’s beauty in your body
|
| But you can’t see it and don’t feel it |