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Our Lost Infantry
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(verse) Oh, my mouth is dry, I'm hearing lights again The odour of pencil on paper The bass notes that shake through my fingers The hair on the back of my neck, a-bristle with fatigue A rictus of overtone series That burn as I breathe through the memory (chorus) Keep it down in the cheap seats Knuckle down Give it elbow grease Keep it down in the cheap seats You're grist to the mill, you're standing still You're a bleak child sat facing the window (verse) Make me an island with the best of men Landlocked in ashtrays and broken pens Biros and dust for my skeleton As hands like hammers, split my skewed phrenology Stock market symphonies flourishing Cash registers blaring the voluntary (chorus) Keep it down in the cheap seats Knuckle down Give it elbow grease Keep it down in the cheap seats You're grist to the mill, you're standing still You're a bleak child sat facing the window (outro) When you were ranged, were ranged in columns before me I could not speak - my eyes failed So many misshapen drawings When you were ranged, were ranged in columns before me My death by water flowing though this undiscovered country Read to me tonight, please
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