She takes the bones of her hands, to tangle up the soles of her feet.
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To make a loss look good on paper, 'til it's outside of our reach.
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And they're coming in on runway strips to pump the rival's hatred.
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And screaming out uncomfortable and falling out of favor.
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And they coat the walls, too complicated,
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Scrape the roads in desperation.
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Distances too far to wait on,
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In the throws of ...
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She takes the bones of her hands, to trample on the soles of our feet.
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To make a loss look good on paper, 'til it's outside of our reach.
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It's the perfect confrontation now to pump our rival's hatred.
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And screaming out uncomfortable and falling from your favor.
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And it writes itself too complicated,
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Breathe the air in suffocation.
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Distances, so self-effacing,
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In the throws of the bones of her hand.
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Bones of Her Hands
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Archers of Loaf |