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Cymbals Eat Guitars - Share |
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[01:07.65] |
If I should return like I once did |
[01:16.18] |
Animals will mark me with brown infant eyes |
[01:25.39] |
The same eyes whose lids I kissed the high grass in which they sit |
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Is shoulder length and hanging on your forehead |
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A week is four years in ancient hive minds |
[02:56.19] |
And soon those eyes begin to well up |
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Your shallow grave concealed by fragrant leaf piles |
[03:13.55] |
Black glistening bird eyes averted |
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