See the fog on the horizon
It's dancing
And it smell like a teenager
See the bones behind my eyelids
They're dancing
And it sounds like tap-dancing shoes
See the bones behind my eyelids
They're dancing
And it sounds like tap-dancing shoes
Worms on the bones under beds
Of insomniac eaten teenagers
They whisper
And it sounds like a crooked flute
"at its best like Belle & Sebastian having a stab at Portishead" - Uncut
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