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Porcupine Sheet

Little Red Lung

We made a boat out of your shouldersAnd rapped your legs around our armsThe waves get choppier the further out we goOut we go...
There's something under us waiting for our luck to run outThere's something under us about to fill our boat with blood
Your eyes get yellower with every secondThe sky goes black behind the trunks of the treesWe can't go faster with this porcupine sheet...
There's something under us waiting for our luck to run outThere's something under us about to fill our boat with blood

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