MOTHS

Sweet Lord, the winds are whispering
There's an upswell of fluttering eyes
Cause those low-watt hanging lights entice
And those swinging them play on the appetite

Feel the pull and the passage of pheromones
Antennae are in tune all across the sky
We could be struck by beaks and chitin alike
But the numbers still say that we're alright

Chase the light
Ignore the plunder
Feel grateful that you're not one of those torn asunder
Yeah, feud about it or catwalk around it
God forbid we catch you running, screaming out or throwing bricks

Sweet Maker, wash the dust from our wings
Paint us pretty like the butterflies
We'll take a shot at running your fetid race
Even if we're stuffed and pinned up for display

Wings beat and thorax throbs
Legs twitch while we're ducking claws
We're torn apart by beaks and chitin alike
But the numbers still say that we're alright

Chase the light
Ignore the plunder
Feel grateful that you're not one of those torn asunder
Yeah, feud about it or catwalk around it
God forbid we catch you running, screaming out or throwing bricks
Whoa!

Chase the light
Ignore the plunder
Feel grateful that you're not one of those torn asunder
Yeah, feud about it or catwalk around it
God forbid we catch you running, screaming out or throwing bricks

Whoo!



Credits
Writer(s): Georgie Bogle
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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