In Swathes

Squandered chance to jive in the early 80s, rebuilding Beirut out of cardboard
The Czar saw me dance like a vision in white, bedazzled by diamante coat-tails

I can't hear a thing
I can't see anything
I can't smell and I can't sing
I can't hear anything

Upholster the topside in loop-pile berber, vermouth stains still dried in the carpet
Scarring of death, loss and misery, our ship sets it's sail made of cardboard
In swathes we go



Credits
Writer(s): Rory Attwell
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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