MOG

We lie in our beds and our graves

And I found myself spellbound at the sight of you

I would offer you my pulse
I would give you my breath

We have some hundred years

I would offer you my pulse
I would give you my breath
I would give you my breath
And laughed our way home
I would offer you my pulse
I realized that night that the, the hall light

I would offer you my pulse
And laughed our way home
I would offer you my pulse
I would give you my breath
Unable to save ourselves
I would offer you my pulse
I thought I would offer you my pulse
Beautiful and grotesque and all the rest of that bug stuff
Beautiful and grotesque resting
And then they can build building on our only bones
I would offer you my pulse

Let's just stay here
I held you there thinking I would offer you my pulse
I would give you my breath

Bluffing your way into my mouth
That night you leaned over and threw up into your hair
I would offer you my pulse

I told you
I would give you my breath
I would give you my breath
Keep holding
I would give you my breath

Cocooned in my room

From the stupid circumstances we slalomed through
The problem with death is
That night we got kicked out of two bars
I would give you my breath
Compared to the light which seeps from me while you're sleeping
I would give you my breath
I would offer you my pulse
I would offer you my pulse
I would offer you my pulse
From the quaint tragedies we invent and undo
If I thought it would be useful
That night we got kicked out of two bars

I would give you my breath except
Keep holding
I would offer you my pulse
I would give you my breath
I would offer you my pulse
I would give you my breath
Which seemed so bright when you turned it on
I would give you my breath

I would give you my breath
Is nothing compared to the dawn which is nothing
A hundred years and then your grave is not your own
Behind my teeth, reaching for my scars