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[ti:The Calendar Hung Itself] |
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[ar:Bright Eyes] |
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[al:Fevers And Mirrors] |
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[offset:0] |
[00:01.77] |
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[00:06.08] |
Does he kiss your eyelids in the morning when you start to raise your head |
[00:13.37] |
And does he sing to you incessantly from the space between your bed and wall |
[00:18.19] |
Does he walk around all day at school with his feet inside your shoes |
[00:21.87] |
Looking down every few steps to pretend he walks with you |
[00:26.11] |
Oh does he know that place below your neck that is your favorite to be touched |
[00:30.35] |
And does he cry through broken sentences that I love you far too much |
[00:34.60] |
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[00:35.70] |
Does he lay awake listening to your breath |
[00:38.82] |
Worried you smoke too many cigarettes |
[00:43.31] |
Is he coughing now on a bathroom floor |
[00:47.74] |
For every speck of tile there's a thousand more |
[00:51.98] |
You won ever see |
[00:53.91] |
But you must hold inside yourself eternally |
[00:59.16] |
Well I drug your ghost across the country and we plotted out my death |
[01:13.01] |
In every city memories would whisper Here is where you rest |
[01:17.26] |
I was determined in Chicago but I dug my teeth into my knees |
[01:21.76] |
And I settled for a telephone and sang into your machine |
[01:25.74] |
You are my sunshine my only sunshine |
[01:31.36] |
You are my sunshine my only sunshine |
[01:39.78] |
And I kissed a girl with a broken jaw that her father gave to her |
[02:01.63] |
She had eyes bright enough to burn me They reminded me of yours |
[02:05.26] |
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[02:05.91] |
And In a story told she was a little girl in a red-rouge sun-bruised field |
[02:09.63] |
And there were rows of ripe tomatoes where a secret was concealed |
[02:14.07] |
And it rose like thunder clapped under our hands |
[02:18.39] |
And it stretched for centuries to a diary entry end |
[02:27.74] |
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[02:29.31] |
Where I wrote |
[02:31.44] |
You make me happy |
[02:33.37] |
Oh when skies are gray |
[02:36.48] |
You make me happy oh when skies are gray and gray and gray |
[02:46.98] |
Well the clock heart it hangs inside its open chest |
[02:52.16] |
With its hands stretched towards the calendar hanging itself |
[02:57.04] |
But I will not weep for those dying days |
[03:00.71] |
For all the ones who've left there's a few that stayed |
[03:05.20] |
And they found me here and pulled me from the grass where I was laid |