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Songs and lyrics

Last ExitBrendan Bonsack

I'm holding my breath
Just to see how it feels
To be all rushing from me
To be cracking the seals

There is some kind of poem
In the laundry machines
Press your ear to these thin hotel walls
And you'll see what I mean

There's a picture in your fingers
Intersecting with mine
A church with no steeple
And all the folk trapped inside

So, here we are, you beautiful man
Two specs on a map where no places have names
I'll tell you my secret in a room with no sound
When the last exit to morning comes around...
when the last exit to morning comes around

I'm counting my toes
Roadsigns brushing my feet
Your laconic repose
Palmed in a sun-dappled seat

I'm tracing the steps
We may well never make
My body is a stranger I meet every night
Before you've found the time to awake

So, here we are, you beautiful man
Two specs on a map where no places have names
I'll tell you my secret in a room with no sound
When the last exit to morning comes around...
when the last exit to morning comes around

There will be a crash, babe
And it will make some noise
But for now here we lie
Oh, so wonderfully poised

So, here we are, you beautiful man
Two specs on a map where no places have names
I'll tell you my secret in a room with no sound
When the last exit to morning comes around...
when the last exit to morning comes around



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