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Album: Track 10 on Your Voice Repeating
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Fell the trees. Grind it all down to the pulp.
The hot dirt smoke.
Or stare out at the road - switch off the lights.
Bloody hands. Take the house down to the ground.
Hundreds of thousands of pounds.
Splintered skin. Breathe through the old barren frame.
A low, loud sound.
Or stare out at the road - wait for full flight.
Air sucked through the roof - the clouds, the moon and stars.
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