I'll Not Contain You
The Microphones
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I'll not contain you
I won't look for you in my room
Through lengthy talks I'll not contain you
Through climbing arms I'll reach my loft
Through rotting skin I'll leave my coffin
Through calloused work I will grow soft
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My eyes narrow on a light
A blurry place where we hotly radiate
Things are not concrete there and we fastly glide
To get there, to get there
To get there I'll not contain you
I'll not contain you
To get there I'll not contain you