You're Living In Your Very Last House
Lo-Fang
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Why am reaching again for the brushes?
When I paint your portrait
God, nothing happens
But I can choose to feel you
On my senses' horizon
You appear hesitantly like scattered islands
It's standing here, peering out
I'm all the time seen by you
A chorus of angels use up all of heaven
You're living in your very last house
You're living in your very last house
You're living in your very last house