Texty: Primitive Radio Gods. Blood From The Beating Heart.

She counted holes with a shovel. She won't shake hands with the devil
And when she's caught in the middle, she pulls away and it feels
Like a north wind freezin' your body again
Like a slow day makin' its way in the dark
To a mouth where the feelings start
Rush out like the blood from the beating heart

She holds the neck of the bottle, her every thought is a riddle
You try to rise to her level, you sit back down and it feels
Like a north wind teasin' your body again
Like a slow day makin' its way in the dark
To a mouth where the feelings start
Rush out like the blood from the beating heart
The blood from the beating heart
The blood from the beating heart


A strange and delicate creature who only lives if you love her
Invites you to swim in the river and leaves you under the earth
Like a north wind freezin' your body again
Like a slow day makin' its way in the dark
To a mouth where the feelings start
Rush out like the blood from the beating heart
Like a north wind...Like a slow day...
To a mouth where the feelings start
Rush out like the blood from the beating heart