your hand hovers over the bowl of water. your blood seeps slowly down your palm. you think of a cold future, surrounded by sterile white and that particular shade of blue - you think of her eyes, stormy and blue.

oh my sweet fairy the past is strong (strong, strong)
touch not my bosom for I'll not get far (far)
colour your cartography in your dreams of me
maps will not lie, will not lie, will not lie in me

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9 tracks