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Pillow of Your Bones

The embers of the saint inside of you

Are growing as I'm bathing in your glow

I'm swallowing the poison of your flower

And hanging on the rising of my lowColorful and falling from your mouth

Like a painted fever in recoil

Like a lie without the painOn a pillow of your bones

I will lay across the stones of your shore

Until the tide comes crawling

Throw my pillow on the fire

Make my bed under the eye of your moon

Until the tide comes crawling backA waning hand on silver granite ways

Will mend my broken limbs and bend my haze

I'm sleeping in the silence of your voice

I'm cradling the peril of my only choiceColorful and falling from your mouth

Like a painted fever in recoil

Like a lie without the painOn a pillow of your bones

I will lay across the stones of your shore

Until the tide comes crawling

Throw my pillow on the fire

Make my bed under the eye of your moon

Until the tide comes crawling backEven though the truth can burn inside or fall behind

I will wander through your open mind

And you will find no lie can hide

Until the tide comes crawlingOn a pillow of your bones

I will lay across the stones of your shore

Until the tide comes crawling

Throw my pillow on the fire

Make my bed under the eye of your moon

Until the tide comes crawlingOn a pillow of your bones

I will lay across the stones of your shore

Until the tide comes crawling back

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