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I part the curtains of your hair |
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And all the light of the sun floods the room |
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Poured from your sleepy stare |
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Two seconds each morning without fail |
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Before I enter the abattoir |
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To see my insides hanging there |
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But they request that I leave |
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'Cause my sad eyes are too much to bear |
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When the light leaves, the dark sees |
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Your hands to your hips now, |
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Two swan necks |
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Curl between pelvis with stretch-marks |
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And shoulders with those freckle flecks |
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The pain of the silence before bed |
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Oh for the sound of your pissing |
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Through the thin walls |
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Or stroking your head |
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But for the shadows and doom |
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And the sorrow we seem to have bred |
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When the light leaves, the dark sees |