Send* corrections to the typist Don't

deny that sick feeling in your stomach you can't run from it Let

it guide you into high view and move beyond the summit From

peeks to valleys speed through alleys if it's done quick You'll

have time to find the caves where the days are never sunlit Find

the scriptures made by a society of blind men Who

suggest the best direction's where you most likely will find them Dead..

set on checkmates embracing a chess set When

bedspreads get wet they're left with the scent of death threats In

7 seconds I'll become undone I'm, breaking through If

you're around by the time I reach number one I'm taking you You're

not the traveling type Then? hide your baggage better Before

you die a normal death and write the average letter About

your internal furnace And

how life's a sexually transmitted disease that you contracted from her kiss When

a boy writes off the world it's done with sloppy misspelled words if A

girl writes off the world it's done in cursive I'm

searching for the cure This

is a sickness Can

you hear me love, I?

kick dirt for what it's worth listening to the birds chirp The

same cryptic speech that the breeze speaks and sea repeats Recognizing

the cycles with every passing day Writing

full demands in the sand with my toe til crashing waves washed it away I

watch what I say now but I hate it Trying

to make my mark afraid, of the dark nature of vague statements That

plague vacant parking lots where shopping carts go uncollected That

sick feeling in my stomach start to leave my heart and soul infected I

won't accept it I. do my best to reject patterns til it hurts Every

second making bad turns for the worse She's

getting further away I can feel it in the way my bones ache The

ocean sealed it's lips now, the waves won't break The

secrets it won't say has got us trying to break codes in churches And

lately I've been hating its soul purpose When

a boy writes off the world it's done with sloppy misspelled words if A

girl writes off the world it's done in cursive I'm

searching for the cure This

is a sickness Can

you hear me love, Now?

I look for air pockets to pick walk, with a stick start, picking locks with it Opening

up heart-shaped lockets with little arguments The

tawdry trinkets start to split and contradict Those

who say one thing but think the opposite I

bit the dust tongue kissing documents in a smoke stack Faith

is harder to swallow than pride it turns, our throats black I

want my home back I. know that's not an available option It's

the way that I'm walking in between a cradle and coffin That

makes me pace myself If. half the battle is done right The

other half won't take my health while jacking my shadow's sunlight To

crack it open and find the space between my breaths are desolate Life

is just a lie with an " f" in; it and death is definite But

after I scratched the surface I

never saw the calm before the storm act so nervous When

a boy writes off the world it's done with sloppy misspelled words if A

girl writes off the world it's done in cursive I'm

searching for her Can

you hear me love,
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The Cure Lyrics

Non-Prophets – The Cure Lyrics

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