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One! Two! Three! Four! One! Two! Three! Four! Any more tears for the birthing pool? Bear this child directly into misery Kiss him in the face with no lips and no tongue But with your little, middle, index and ring fingers Singing I see songs in shapes and colours Like nuclear physics or pottery ovens Fluid lines that soar like towers Patterns that form just like child actors Plunge your hand, rip out my spine Replace it with a UV light So I can be the beacon of hope that you'd always expected These constant broken heartbeats sound like breakbeats They beat round and round to me You know he's so much more like Spiderman than you will ever, ever be So stick with your instincts Stick with the imprints With the hieroglyphics that the fan club sent us A roll with the toppers The sly steady choppers Bat it with your eyelids And lose it with your static Go b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b - honeeey! I'm taking far too many chances On these less than idealistic romances Plunge your hand, rip out my spine Replace it with a UV light So I can be the beacon of hope that you'd always expected These constant broken heartbeats sound like breakbeats They beat round and round to me You know he's so much more like Spiderman than you will ever, ever be. |
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