paroles de chanson Notes of Violate Spectates a Flatter of Male - of Montreal
                                                    I 
                                                will 
                                                protect 
                                                you 
                                                from 
                                                this 
                                                awful 
                                                place
 
                                    
                                
                                                    I 
                                                know 
                                                you 
                                                so 
                                                well 
                                                that 
                                                it's 
                                                fiction, 
                                                got 
                                                to 
                                                get 
                                                out 
                                                of 
                                                our 
                                                head
 
                                    
                                
                                                My 
                                                face 
                                                is 
                                                    a 
                                                dead 
                                                link 
                                                you 
                                                won't 
                                                find 
                                                me 
                                                there
 
                                    
                                
                                                My 
                                                eyes 
                                                dead 
                                                link
 
                                    
                                
                                                Absentee 
                                                ballet 
                                                zero 
                                                for 
                                                conduct 
                                                all 
                                                we 
                                                used 
                                                to 
                                                be 
                                                made 
                                                out 
                                                of 
                                                glass
 
                                    
                                
                                                Glass 
                                                and 
                                                blood 
                                                glass 
                                                and 
                                                blood 
                                                not 
                                                for...
 
                                    
                                
                                                For 
                                                Tristeza... 
                                                not 
                                                for 
                                                Tristeza
 
                                    
                                
                                                Trsiteza 
                                                casting 
                                                spells 
                                                in 
                                                your 
                                                dead 
                                                name 
                                                is 
                                                elastic
 
                                    
                                
                                                Her 
                                                striking 
                                                temperature 
                                                according 
                                                use 
                                                to 
                                                object
 
                                    
                                
                                                Extract 
                                                the 
                                                masculine 
                                                germ 
                                                from 
                                                remote 
                                                memory
 
                                    
                                
                                                Now 
                                                that 
                                                all 
                                                my 
                                                thoughts 
                                                are 
                                                phantom 
                                                pains
 
                                    
                                
                                                Pains 
                                                pains
 
                                    
                                
                                                    I 
                                                was 
                                                    a 
                                                mad 
                                                idea 
                                                traced 
                                                in 
                                                thе 
                                                sand
 
                                    
                                
                                                    I 
                                                was 
                                                    a 
                                                mad 
                                                idea 
                                                traced 
                                                in 
                                                the 
                                                sand 
                                                whеre 
                                                misery 
                                                is 
                                                deify-able
 
                                    
                                
                                                    I 
                                                will 
                                                protect 
                                                you 
                                                from 
                                                this 
                                                awful 
                                                place
 
                                    
                                
                                                    A 
                                                horror 
                                                poem 
                                                unfolds 
                                                and 
                                                our 
                                                love 
                                                absorbs 
                                                it
 
                                    
                                 
                            1 Carton Aesthesis (o Portão)
2 And We Can Survive Anything If We Fake It
3 Aries Equals Good Trash
4 Queer as Love
5 Now That's What I Call Freewave
6 Japanese Word for Witch
7 This Is Exposed
8 True Beauty Forever
9 Fuckheads Is the Auto-correction
10 Drowner's TeÃrs
11 I Feel Safe with You, Trash
12 Fingerless Gloves
13 Notes of Violate Spectates a Flatter of Male
14 Equatorial Hemorrhage Is a Dead Link
15 Yamagata Forest Flutes
16 Extract the Masculine Germ from Remote Memory
17 Thram Rammaged à Man-mod
18 Kcrraanggaanngg!!
19 Karlheinz Chop up Children
20 So Chill Then (o Portão)
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