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Crimes of the Heart

Waxahatchee

Tigers Blood


I got off at your stop, at my stock's sudden drop
I'm a trusted doorstop or a paperweight, taciturn, inanimate
I can sit on your shelf, like ashes foretell
A spirit in hell while the living sleep right on through
take a shortcut
And I coulda called, I suppose, I'm the thorn on your rose
I'm the emperor's new clothes
and I make it look easier every time
If you'd left it to me, who knows where we would be
Reading fortunes for free in someone else's goldmine


Survеy my breaker like chеap wine
You let it in sometimes
A floodgate you can pantomime
You let it in sometimes


In every crime of the heart, you'll rip yourself apart
It's outsider art, provokes every emotion
And it may bewilder a few, it's an unpleasant view
You're an agent of truth, twisted up at the tail end


You play the villain like a violin
It comes from within
Darkness you can befriend
It comes from within

It's a dead end
Don't overextend
Hail the darkness you can befriend
It's a dead end
Don't overextend
Hail the darkness you can befriend

Compositor: Kathryn Crutchfield (Waxahatchee)
ECAD: Obra #46284145

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