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lyrics

Son, get the boat, leave it out.
Why'd you even try insult my intellect.
Frozen in time like a welfare line,
Like a noose around my neck.
We've all seen the cracks in your skull.
They never see you like a king without a crown.
I hope your friends and family will have the strength to cut you down

And despite, despite yourself,
You'll be the last good thorn on the rose.
And in time, in time you'll see,
You'll make those fucking petals look like plastic shite you see in shops,
Or graveyard bins.
Where the pointless offers made to long dead lovers means nothing,
To cold dead bones.
You'll be the last good thorn on the rose.

All is lost all is gone,
All we have is just a rock spinning round space.
And yet you keep your head bowed down as if your god would know your face.
You can really think you'll be saved.
As if maggots were just ghosts that haunt the ground.
Your fucking angel lost his way,
Now decomposed without a sound.

And despite, despite yourself,
You'll be the last good thorn on the rose.
And in time, in time you'll see,
You'll make those fucking petals look like plastic shite you see in shops,
Or graveyard bins.
Where the pointless offers made to long dead lovers means nothing,
To cold dead bones.
You'll be the last good thorn on the rose.

Darling, wont you give it up?
You can't win every time.

credits

from Moving the Goalposts, released August 5, 2016

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Chewing on Tinfoil Dublin, Ireland

From Tallaght, Dublin in Ireland.

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