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The pulse is a thud of such familiar blood and it floods your heart. Each muscle will twitch, each nerve will
prickle and itch and it falls apart.

We jaw for a month but we're such kittenish drunks that it makes things worse. Sincerity slip from crushed and
delicate lip, we slur the words.

But you look fine on Spanish oranges and wine, you're far too beautiful and kind for these times. And I would
die to soothe your sad and sleepy mind, you're far too beautiful and bright for these times.

The summer is slow along a difficult coast, but the boat still carries us. The gunner will gift a soft and similar kiss and the kiss will marry us.

The pulse is a thud of such familiar blood and it fills my day. Each muscle will twitch, each nerve will prickle
and itch and the salt will stain.

But you look fine on Spanish oranges and wine, you're far too beautiful and kind for these times. And then I lie
to soothe your sad and sleepy mind, you're far too gullible, you're blind to these times.

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