Pulsing pulsing
There's a beat in his arm still
Pulsing pulsing
Like the throb of an anthill
Pulsing pulsing
No death in the rain
I've been washing my hands
In the stuff I wash my brains

I'm pulsing
You're pulsing
Who's pulsing?
What's pulsing?

Pulsing pulsing
There's a lump in his throat still
Pulsing pulsing
At the site of a crash throw
Pulsing pulsing
No push in the vein
I've been washing my hands
In the stuff I wash my brains