| [01:43.92] |
She washes all the young blood from her hands in the sink |
| [01:48.24] |
And she knows that the lights will be there for her |
| [01:52.77] |
Breaks down the bodies to dark subtle ink |
| [01:57.57] |
And she scrawls on the parchments that hang in the air |
| [02:05.37] |
She rides a horse over stones in the night |
| [02:09.54] |
And she closes her eyes and lets go of the reigns |
| [02:14.19] |
She knows the radios run through the night |
| [02:19.86] |
And she knows that the lights leave the prettiest stains |
| [02:25.44] |
She builds a shrine and a typing machine |
| [02:30.60] |
And she curls up to write down her tales from the black |
| [02:36.54] |
Prays for a soft breeze and cool gentle rain |
| [02:40.26] |
And she prays for the bodies that rise slowly back |
| [04:11.97] |
She knows the dunes where the steel cities grow |
| [04:16.26] |
And she knows when they jail her they'll grind down the key |
| [04:22.11] |
She knows the lights lay the heaviest blows |
| [04:26.94] |
And she knows that the sand must submit to the sea |
| [04:32.79] |
She builds a bird out of plywood and gold |
| [04:39.06] |
For to carry the old souls on up to the sun |
| [04:39.99] |
Turns on the TV and sits in the cold |
| [04:48.24] |
And she dreams that sometimes she's the prettiest one |
| [04:54.18] |
She knows the thrill of the chase in her veins |
| [04:58.98] |
And she knows that the sinking's a trick of the light |
| [05:04.89] |
Prays for the silence and cool gentle rain |
| [05:09.57] |
And she prays that the radios run through the night |
