Old Ways (Scratch Tracks #2)
Small Houses
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You stick around That smiling red-eyed photo A stick and poke tattoo of some dots and arrows A jet black pen ink and a needle from Walgreens Yea, the guts to break the skin The shape of blood is a tintype silhouette The bodies of floods in through the polish of steel skin The breath the cut dime and the wind through the senile And the rush of silvered us And like a call through the airwaves Like a croon, "I want the old ways back some I want the hell of faking love, I'm sorry I want the old ways back some I want the cut to know blood, I'm sorry, I'm sorry" I love that war The heavy rain on cars The overpass shields I turn my flashers on In the clean of applause The water on blacktop Just shut up I don't want to think And like a call through the airwaves Like a croon I know you're somewhere Always somewhere Always new
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"Old Ways (Scratch Tracks #2) Lyrics." Lyrics.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 15 May 2024. <https://www.lyrics.com/lyric-lf/5477390/Small+Houses/Old+Ways+%28Scratch+Tracks+%232%29>.
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