Half-handed Cloud
A Bed That Breathes With Him
The stangers attacking Our hearts are all lacking But God means nothing to them The hit-men hold coupons And say God is gone Or trying to do me in Oh search and be silent On a bed that breathes with Him Our hearts are forgetting The thugs are all betting That God will only condemn Their questions rhetorical I wish they'd get homesick And find their way back again
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