If you live inside the old graveyard
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Your skin and bones get kind of hard
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You blame it on all of the ones who left you
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If you¡¯re in the closet with a broom
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Why don¡¯t you sweep around the room
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Make little piles of all the things you don¡¯t understand
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But it¡¯s in the mouth, it¡¯s in the blood
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It¡¯s sweet, the taste, the spit of love
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Poor skin, too thick to understand
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The gravity and graceful plans
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In the place that¡¯s made of old relations
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Where some got loved, some got hated
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How absently you move around, how listless
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How in the night the battle raged
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Under the blankets, were we brave
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At least enough to recognize the storm is just a storm
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Shine the lights across the bridge
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The surface you can¡¯t follow it
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The glossy night, the wind in fits
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Get girders buckling at their bits
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Will I be this way when I¡¯m dead
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Will I go home and go to bed
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Will I wake up and wonder
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Did something happen here
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The weatherman, well he should know
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The doctor, too, from down below
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They call to one another ¡®cross the riding in the night
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Don¡¯t forget, you've got love
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You've got bravery, you¡¯ve got trust
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You¡¯ve got bodies, responsibilities
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There¡¯s still mountains, they're pushing up from underneath
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You¡¯ve got pain, caused plenty of
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It¡¯s not so strange but now you¡¯ve had enough
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Don¡¯t forget your bones and skin
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Or where you go, or where you¡¯ve been
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Bones & Skin
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Mirah |