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"Your Beauty Must Be Rubbing Off" by Hawksley Workman Look at those buggers who are looting the crash site, taking the ring off your sweet little finger that I gave to you, when we got married. You're under water now, you're getting back to where you came from; no stealing of your beauty that could naturally flow from the center of all that you are, all that you are. Your beauty must be rubbing off, your beauty must be rubbing off on me. If we had children they'd be lovely and beautiful, and posses a peace and strength and a depth in their eyes and a soundness in heart, even as they cry. And we as lovers bloom like lilies in midnight to taste our bellies before god we are witness to currents we cannot control, cannot control. Your beauty must be rubbing off, your beauty must be rubbing off on me. Your beauty must be rubbing off, your beauty must be rubbing off on me. It's all the faces that you never have, or that you never had to the shivers you couldn't shake, the planes you didn't make, the hooks that didn't take off at night in your window as you fight with the curtains to cover up your nakedness from the neighbour's gaze, such a sweet display of nothingness of everything of nevermind, these thing are fine, the sweet tooth sunsets forget tonight... cacophony, cacaphony... So let me say that you look lovely in all of this, and let me say that the death that I fear could in part be a fear that I'd lose you, just as I found you. Your beauty must be rubbing off, your beauty must be rubbing off on me. Your beauty must be rubbing off, your beauty must be rubbing off on me. Don't be a stranger to the danger that is kissing you... Don't be a stranger to the danger that is kissing you... your beauty must be rubbing off, your beauty must be rubbing off on me. http://www.hawksleyworkman.com Here's a partial live performance: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n3Dg0GIq-ME |