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Cold-blooded old times |
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The type of memories |
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That turns your bones to glass |
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Turns your bones to glass |
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Mother came rushing in |
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She said we didn't see a thing |
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We said we didn't see a thing |
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And father left at eight |
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Nearly splintering the gate |
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Cold-blooded old times |
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The type of memory |
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That turns your bones to glass |
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Turns your bones to glass |
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And though you where |
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Just a little swirl |
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You understood every word |
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And in this way they gave you clarity |
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A cold-blooded clarity |
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Cold-blooded old times |
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Now how can i stand |
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And laugh with the man |
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Who redefined your body |
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Those cold-blooded old times... |