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Cursive - This House Alive |
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There are voices in the attic |
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Wispy whispers past the cabinets |
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Filled with tawny photographs |
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I am stolid, I am steadfast |
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Where there's panic, lingers relapse |
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Oh, no; those breakdown days are done |
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This house alive |
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I can hear the floorboards breathe |
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Creak, creak |
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Are these angels come to take me? |
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If so, I'll wave my white flag willingly |
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I have shed my snake-skinned past |
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Clustered flies hinder the windows |
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For every angel there's a devil |
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Oh no, make these voices go away |
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I was a God-fearing boy |
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Sure, I stumbled more than once |
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But so did his begotten son |
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An orphan, thrown out to the wolves |
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Not prodigal, far worse |
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I was hustled, I was scorned |
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Made a criminal... |
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But I stand here reformed |
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There are voices in the dead of night |
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A child screaming, "I am Gemini!" |
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Oh, what are you, and why? |
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Are you specter? Are you spirit? |
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Am I lucid, am I losing it? |
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Oh no, this macabre facade |
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These walls, paper thin |
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