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letra de your local slaughterhouse - post office winter

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i am the watchtower
sitting in your shoes
wondering why the moth won’t fly

i am your lighthouse
sitting in some soup
i want to live inside your eyes

your eyes

i am your monastery
sleeping into you
you know your cat’s a funny guy

i am your windmill
blowing through the skies
i want to live inside your eyes

your eyes

you sleep into my fibers
your boots stain my floor with mud
your sound fills my lungs
your blood pumps through me
you’re swimming in my skin
your breath seeps through my walls
open the blinds and let the light in
crack open my windows
i am your slaughterhouse
lying in your tomb
waiting for the train to come

i am your post office
writing in your room
i want to live inside your eyes

your eyes

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