You can dig a narrow house in the dirt
You can build yourself a bridge across the bar
You can shut your parish out, but you’ll forget
to wake up when the knackers twist at your arms
We can split ourselves in half
We can teach each piece to dance
We can dress the shambles up but they’ll still stink like death
Oh no, you can’t keep us out of your head
There isn’t room enough inside your skin
to keep you safe when the lights catch hell
from the little trick that plays itself

You can sleep here if you want, huddled up
in a pulsating, arterial knot
but you might wake up alone, all tied up
with a chest full of imaginary clots
You can wrap each hitching breath
up in winding, claret shreds
and I’ll dress each day in a cyprus suit and a liar’s pelt
Oh no, you can’t keep us out of your head
There isn’t room enough inside your skin
to keep you safe when the lights catch hell
from the little trick that plays itself



Lyrics submitted by jmburge

The Little Trick That Plays Itself song meanings
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