| That night, I watched people fucking on my computer
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| Nobody can see me looking anyway
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| It’s late
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| And everything turns into a kind of dirty
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| My skin starts breaking like LCD
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| I feel a desire
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| One I don’t know, one I don’t own
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| I’m free
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| I turn off the light and dress myself in silver and gold
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| I go out into the edge of the city
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| Tread on my twigs that are not yet burning
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| The weight of my boots makes them break
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| And smoke comes out from be-be-be-ne-ne-neath the ba-ba-bark
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| Like a burnt-out match!
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| Like sex without the body!
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| Like smoke rings, smoke rings from my pussy!
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| A night vision, and bodies turned soft like newborn jellyfish
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| Mushrooms, white MacBooks, blind bodies with empty sockets
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| I stare back at my gaze that belongs to your body
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| I ask «is there nothing but seen or seen
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| Is there nothing to serve nothing
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| And nothing and nothing?»
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| I’m free
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| I take off my face and torso
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| Live bare and barely
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| I go out into the haze of the city
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| Tread on my twigs and feel them break, yeah
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| But I’m looking for something else
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| There has to be more to burning
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| I’m losing myself
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| More to burning and then sex and God
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| I tear off the ties
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| Oslo Oedipus, Oslo Oedipus
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| I am Oslo Oedipus
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| Tearing my eyes in and out and
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| In and out and in and out and
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| In and out and in and out and
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| In and out and in and out and
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| In and out of face! |