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Lyrics

She was spooky, stoney, barely over thirty
She decided it was time to make a run
It was time to put down every revelry that she found
And go back home to Wilmington

"Nothing is rare anymore" she said
Not the singers nor the sounds
The secret kids, the coral clouds
Nor the harsher angels hunting overhead
Nor the pages that the Magus might've read

Lyrics continue below...

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Stop singing about the slipstream
If you don't know what it means
You don't have to seem so hollow
You don't have to seem so lean

Give up on Mercury now
Give up the girls and Apollo
You know my ghost, anyhow
Untrained, but ready to follow

I played bass in the Lemonheads towards the end
Before the 90's devoured us and then
No one remembered it was me, I played a Gibson EB3
I was 19 or 20, softly shadowed, almost free

I miss the sighs of the masterpiece
I miss the thighs of the Vicar's niece
I found peace, it was lush
I found the sound, I found the crush
I found the sound, I found the crush
I found the sound, I found the crush
I found the sound, I found the crush

There are no pardons for the damned
The turning road, the silver sand
We were soft, don't rub it in
Almost lost, don't rub it in

Give up on Mercury now
Give up the girls and Apollo
You know my ghost, anyhow
Untrained, but ready to follow

She was spooky, stoney, barely over thirty
She allowed herself to dream of the crusade
To lay waste to the city streets
And collapse every county seat
And depart from the apartments of the easily laid

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