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The morning bore the biggest lie
The autumn dressed as summertime
I could hardly open up my eyes
Like closing teeth around my mind

But a voice that sounded
Sweet as heaven
& I could die right now
She's cleaned out begging
Triple sevens, inside she's crying out

The evening's imitation light
I keep on fidgeting inside
No dreaming can contain a life
Its sweetness antiquated mine

I'll tell the wretched
There's no heaven
But I just can't decide
Laying on your deathbed
Triple sevens are shining in your eyes



Credits
Writer(s): Thomas Michael Laydon
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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