I think my hand fits yours
I think your heart fits mine.
Quite disturbing really
how I can't seem to breathe
I heard a song that was about you
and all the chords they reminded
me of you
and Wilde said honey, my biography
is for you
and we laughed at his stupidity.
You broke every bone in my body
Round the back of the schoolyard
We can hardly sing for laughing.
For some reason, today deciet
is the medicine.
Is my skin really that pale?
Are my eyes really that green?
I thought I saw you whisper
but I know that sound is smoke.
And I did kill that man for his giro
but my biro broke and left you un-bilo-titled.
Won't you tell her why she is lying
in bundles of peppered rain?
Scattered across the landscape,
Deborah, Deborah, you put yourself in exile.
And we wanted it to be a sort of haven,
somewhere she could hide from kinship;
Hide from most things life threw.
Her heart is the eye of the storm.
He shook the hand of Deborah
and remembered his daughters name.
Maybe Violence is a way of life
Maybe Guns will save us
Maybe peace is the enemy
and Bombs will blow up mountains.
Deborah, you were the eye of the storm
a sort of oxidation.
Come, Bring pleasure to these lips.
Kiss of the heart that born you.
I wanted to be the first to leave.
I wanted to be the one with mo direction
I wanted to be the last one alive
and the first one to die.
I wanted so much more than flight
but all of a sudden my voice ran out
and I couldn't tell her to stop.