| Watch you sleep on a black towel in the sand
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| In the foam of dead jellyfish and crushed beer cans
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| Sucking flies in your mouth
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| Then you breathe them out
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| Just to suck them back in again
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| I look at the stubble on your sunburned scalp
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| Think about how it scratches on my neck and lips
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| Wonder why you grew your hair out long
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| And then you dyed it blonde
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| Just to shave it all off again
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| In the space between your teeth
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| There’s a doorway to the desert
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| Where you breathe sandstorms to life
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| Howling through broken mines
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| And the hollows of sunbleached skulls
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| You look up at me through the sun
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| Tell me ‘bout some dream you’ve just awoken from
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| Where I died shirtless in the street
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| Pants tangled round my feet
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| Waving a bottle at you like a gun
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| And your face is the same
|
| As when you found that picture of her in my desk
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| All blonde locks and naked flesh
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| Back then you didn’t say a word
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| Just chirped sad as a lost bird
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| And then you dropped it back into the mess
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| Your mouth open wide
|
| Just like your grandma’s when she died
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| And you sigh with a moan
|
| Breathing life into snakeskins and dried up bones
|
| Something washes up onto the beach
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| Yeah, it’s half eaten but it’s still movin'
|
| You reach out and grab my hand
|
| We watch it struggle in the sand
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| And all the seagulls start to sing |