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Saturday, August 20, 2005






    A tiny flame inside my hand
    A compromise I never planned
    Unravel out the finer strands

    And I'm looking at a blank page now
    Should I fill it up with words somehow?

    I whispered something in her ear
    I bare my soul but she don't hear
    The scratching of a mellotron it always seemed to make her cry
    Well maybe she remembers us collecting space up in the sky
    Nothing rises from my feet of clay,
    but it's OK Red mist spreads across my fingertips, ardour slips
    I lay her gently on my clothes
    She will leave me yes I know

    And I'm looking at a blank page now
    Should I fill it up with words somehow?

    The scratching of a mellotron it always seemed to make her cry
    Well maybe she remembers us collecting space up in the sky
    Nothing rises from my feet of clay,
    but it's OK Red mist spreads across my fingertips, ardour slips

    Don't look at me with your mother's eyes
    or your killer smile Sing a lullaby




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