1. |
Into
02:03
|
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2. |
Sleep
02:53
|
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You had a lion's head
and a dragon's tongue that ran blue whenever it bled
You had a gun in your eyes
and your pockets full of notes to plagiarise
I keep on thinking if I sleep too long
will I wake up and find the walls have flown away
and if I'm drinking in a song
and I'm sober in bed, am I a hypocrite?
and if I sleep too long
will you steal my teeth while I'm asleep
and will I wake up with a mouthful of blood and a fistful of hair?
You had a face full of knives
and a thousand little men to take over our lives
...
You kept a girl on the run
until she found out what your brothers and sisters had become
I keep on thinking if I sleep too long
will I wake up and find the walls have flown away
and if I'm drinking in a song
and I'm sober in bed, am I a hypocrite?
and if I sleep too long
will you steal my teeth while I'm asleep
and will I wake up with a mouthful of blood and a fistful of hair?
|
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3. |
Parade
06:04
|
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Wasted and tired
I dropped myself in the tide
and you were a ballerina.
Sixteen days late,
I found myself in the parade
with everyone on the scene.
And we huddled down alleys,
decked out in black TV screens,
held hands in the rain,
and talked about all the killings we'd seen
I broke all my strings
I can't play while everyone sings
they just wouldn't care
So I sat and watched
your twisted animatronic corpse
dancing for spare change.
There's a party down your street
let's go there, see what we find
some pretty blonde thing you can touch
and maybe more, let's see if she minds
You're dramatic again,
even through this corroded old lense
sing me another line
|
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4. |
Ill
04:29
|
|||
New York is making me ill
with every taxi that passes me by
with every night I spend on your floor
with every subway station closed.
I found a map, on the floor of the plane
that brought me over to you.
I've been following it for hours now,
and still all the buildings leer down at me.
There's a fever in my blood
from injections they told me to have
There's a bandage on my side
from the papercuts you scratched onto me.
I'm spending my days drinking in public
from a brown paper bag mistake
I sit in parks, and alleys, and streets
and wait for the taxis to take me away again.
|
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5. |
Just
05:22
|
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It's not the sky, over your head,
it's just my love for you.
It's not a knife I stabbed you with,
it's just my love for you.
It's not the end of everything,
it's just my love for you.
|
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