| There’s a second wind coming
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| As we lie here in our bed
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| It rattles the bones of our fathers
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| Carries whispers from the dead
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| And you, you light a candle
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| And I make sure the bairns are fed
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| You turn the telly on
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| To drown out your fear
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| You make the bed up silent on the floor
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| So no-one will hear us
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| You try so loud to love me
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| I cannot seem to hear
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| 'Cause you, you touch
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| My skin peels off like paint
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| But beneath all of our panting
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| There’s this noise I cannot shake
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| ('Cause you you touch my pain
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| All our panting shame)
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| Can’t you hear that scratching?
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| There’s something at the door
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| But the wind has picked us up now
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| We’re hanging in the air
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| And as you grip me like an animal
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| That you’re about to spear
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| ‘Be good to me,' I whisper
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| And you say ‘What?'
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| And I say ‘Nothing dear'
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| Can’t you hear it?
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| It can hear you
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| It wants me to
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| Throw the plate at the wall
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| I’m the paper cut that kills you
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| I’m the priest that you ignored
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| I’m the touch you crave, I’m the plans that you made, but fuck all your plans
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| I’m bored
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| And can’t you hear that scratching?
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| I ask your eyes
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| I’ve got knuckle burn from typing all these lines into your chest
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| And as the belt from your buckle is tightening I make shipwrecks out of my dress
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| And the door below it splinters
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| And the creature creeps inside
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| And we fall into each other
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| The scratching grows so loud
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| Because that unwanted animal
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| Wants nothing more than to get out
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| And I scream
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| ‘What's the time Mr Wolf?'
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| But you, you’re blind, you bleat, you bear your claws
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| And you rip my ribcage open
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| And devour what’s truly yours
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| And our screaming joins in unison
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| I cry out to the lord
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| 'Cause if we join our hands in prayer enough
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| To God I imagine it all starts to sound like applause
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| Can’t you hear it?
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| It can hear you
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| It wants me to…
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| And those plates they smash like waves
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| (Place your hand in mine)
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| And on the wind it howls
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| (How long can this last?)
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| But that second wind is coming love, it’s coming for all we own
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| And on the creature scratches, it doesn’t know how to get out (Let me out)
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| And you, you follow philosophies
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| But me, I laugh I choke
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| ‘Well hello, my hollow Holofernes'
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| I wink but you don’t get the joke
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| ‘Hold the hand of the god-child' they said
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| ‘As he falls from the sky'
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| 'Be good to me' I beg of him
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| 'Be good to me' I beg of him
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| Be good, be good, be good, be good, be good, be good, be good
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| And he replies…
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| ‘No no, not I.' |