she's got a moulding of her left handsnand she holds it to her chestntrying to feel the pulsationsntrying to quiet the unrestnthat's taking placenit's taking placenbehind the armor of her smiling facennshe wants a moulding of her featuresnof her face and of her feetnsometimes she saysnshe wants a doublenmade of stone or of concretento take her placento take her placenthen she could disappearnwithout a tracento take her placento take her placenthen she could disappearnwithout a trace
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Lyrics by Flowers From The Man Who Shot Your Cousin
