This empty chest.
|
This hollow throbbing.
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This empty shell. Will help you sleep.
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And your name will come in time.
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For now take a number.
|
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This is a surrender skin
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This is hanging on
|
Sing the high notes, touch his hand.
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This is giving up
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Faces on! Faces on!
|
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We are pretty when we are faking.
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I am such a liar when I smile.
|
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Son comes home to take solace in his mirror
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(the stains of God's loving embrace still ripe around his throat)
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Only to find he's no longer human
|
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Father don't you cut the rope I want to die here
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Open eyes, dinner, a chandelier
|
|
This empty chest.
|
This hollow throbbing.
|
This empty shell. Will help you sleep.
|
And your name will come in time.
|
For now take a number.
|
|
A chandelier.
|
Not another breather.
|
The sirens must flock to a new destination.
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-----------------
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The Lisbon Girls, Oh The Lisbon Girls
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Fear Before The March Of Flames |