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faithless



Beg you listen me, don't be kissing me 'til I'm done.
Unsung champion, I reason, like seasoning.
Pepper your thoughts with spice, and entice you to a space

Where I dwell with bass players and layers and loops,
Think what I think with my prayers. It's nice.
My world is everything I've become,

Contained in the hum between voice and drum.
I'm coming from the same place I'm still running from,
But even sitting in the garden one can still get stung
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written by BENTOVIM AYALAH DEBORAH, BENTOVIM AYALAH DEBORAH / ARMSTRONG, ROLLO
Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group