The PrimitivesMark Lanegan
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Forget your family son
Face on the clock, your foreign body
The ship is just a frame
Pinpoint eyes, seething decks and pain
You wonder how it should be
You wonder how it should go
Then deny no loathsome thing
Hands beyond hands beyond oblivion
Swing
Forget your yesterday son
Face on the clock, your foreign body
The ship is just a frame
Pinpoint eyes, seething decks and pain
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The Primitives de Mark Lanegan?