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Songs | Albums | Album Arts
Lyrics:
Four, five, six
Soft from your lips, to the rise of your stomach Your long filthy fingers keep jamming words down my throat Nothing to steal we've got nothing to love Nothing to spill because, oh, we're so innocent On, on the edge of On, on the edge of Ah-ah I could have built you a house on the ocean The ocean repeating, receding into the sun So cut to you Daniel, now cut to the live feed Cut through our bodies, at last bleeding into one Oh, on the edge of Oh-oh, on the edge of Oh, oh-oh Oh, oh-oh Oh, oh-oh Oh, oh-oh Oh, oh-oh Oh
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