H. Hawkline
Cold Cuts
Cold cuts
It's cold cuts
Cold cuts
It's cold cuts
Cold cuts
It's cold cuts

She is
He is
Faust

You are going to take it
So take it away

I romanticize, press against the glass of every stranger's eyes
Dancing to the snap of mirror tiles
Cover every face to see for miles and miles

Cold cuts
It's cold cuts
Cold cuts
It's cold cuts

She is
He is
Faust
You are going to take it
So take it away

I romanticize, press against the glass of every stranger's eyes
Dancing to the snap of mirror tiles
Cover every face to see for miles and miles
Every hour I romanticize, pressed against the glass of every stranger's eyes
Dancing to the snap of mirror tiles
Cover every face to see for miles and miles

Cold cuts
It's cold cuts
(does he, does [s?]he notice in the [glitter?] of desire its
[?]the beginning to the glimmer of the mirrored tile)
Cold cuts
It's cold cuts
(does he, does [s?]he notice in the [glitter?] of desire its
[?]the beginning to the glimmer of the mirrored tile)
Cold cuts
It's cold cuts
(does he, does [s?]he notice in the [glitter?] of desire its
[?]the beginning to the glimmer of the mirrored tile)
Cold cuts
It's cold cuts
(does he, does [s?]he notice in the [glitter?] of desire its
[?]the beginning to the glimmer of the mirrored tile)