[00:00.00]What Death Leaves Behind - Los Campesinos!
[00:17.94]I was the first match struck
[00:19.97]At the first cremation,
[00:22.29]You are my shallow grave,
[00:24.26]I'll tend you as a sexton
[00:26.61]If you're the casket door
[00:28.59]That's being slammed upon me,
[00:30.96]I'll be a plague cross
[00:32.66]Painted on your naked body
[00:36.55]Well summer sighed
[00:38.27]And summoned up hail.
[00:40.73]Dirty in dish rack drips the holy grail
[00:45.06]May be heart slob but
[00:46.81]I want 'em to know,
[00:49.47]Cut and shut us like a portmanteau
[00:54.38]We sit around just spit-balling,
[00:58.28]All the witches cackle round my cauldron
[01:02.51]Recognize the lies from my poker tongue
[01:07.23]They say you and me are tautology
[01:12.57]What grows from the seeds,
[01:14.64]Can you quite believe?
[01:16.74]Through cracks come the weeds,
[01:18.92]Long time listener, first time caller,
[01:22.35]No need to remind me
[01:24.67]What death leaves behind me
[01:32.22]Why must I lie awake,
[01:34.09]From dusk until the morning,
[01:36.46]Through fear of being
[01:37.65]Impaled upon errant mattress spring?
[01:40.87]Within a waking dream
[01:42.91]I finally made my heel turn,
[01:45.09]Lived life as Super 8 when
[01:47.51]You were promised Hilton
[01:51.04]Propose me as a pardon for sins,
[01:54.92]Led on barbecue I'm burnt offerings
[01:59.26]I proof-read the Book of Job for the Lord:
[02:03.60]Edit one, League Cup 2004
[02:08.73]We, delicate as a filigree,
[02:12.50]Cleared a place for us in the chicory
[02:16.82]Colosseum blood will dry in the sun