Songwriters: Micheletti, Zachary; Parker, Mimi J; Sparhawk, George Alan
Soft from your lips to the rise of your stomach
Your lungs filled with 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 oh
Oh on the edge of
Oh on the edge of
I could have built you a house on the ocean
The ocean repeating and receding into the sun
So cut to you dead and now cut to the laughing
Cut through our bodies and lastly into our oh
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