Portugal. The Man stables chairs

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I met a face ring rounded pocket eyes
That shaped folded banks inside
As he shivered out thoughts
They went: golden and pale wind whispers breathe New Orleans
Through basements and racetracks met hollowed out from stretching mouths
All these thoughts rolled onto needles
They spilled from heads tumble like apples fell into the sky,
That's where they hide,
Where rubies turned diamonds
Like textures like sunshine
Behind hands arms lift into its own
Behind hands arms lift into its own
As the stadium sheds out the crowd into the streets
Out of their throats pours tongues licking down
What will we become?
Rhythms fed gently in vacuums perspired
Will stay where it's warm,
Where it's safe from the down beating drums
They went: golden and pale wind whispers breathe New Orleans
Behind hands arms lift into its own
Behind hands arms lift into its own
Pull the sleep out covered in the sheets that harbor rest and sunshine
Pull the sleep out covered in the sheets that harbor rest and sunshine
As the stadium sheds out the crowd into the streets
Out of their throats pours tongues licking down
What will we become?
Into its own
Into its own
Into its own

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