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Lletres: Andrew Bird. Armchair Apocrypha. Heretics.

Born host to a tongue so sing a song about it
Held a breath for too long till we're half sick about it
Tell us what we did wrong, then you can blame us for it
Turn the clamp on our thumbs so we're down about it
And tell us all about it, we're so in doubt about it

How about some credit now
Credit is due for the damage that was done
We have wrought upon ourselves and others
With this blow and vicious gun
And although pratfalls can be fun, encores can be fatal

And then I hear you say
Thank God it's fatal, thank God it's fatal, not shy
Not shy and fatal, not shy and fatal, thank God
Thank God it's fatal, thank God it's fatal, not shy
Not shy and fatal, not shy and fatal

Wait just a second now
It's not all that bad, are we not having fun?
You make your mountains of handkerchiefs
Where the mascara always runs
So be careful when you're done you're bound to get post natal
Wait, did I just hear you say

Thank God it's fatal
No, we don't want to hear the sound of a draw
No, we don't want to hear the sound of a draw
And we don't want to hear the signs that you bore
You know the kind of sign you hang on a door
Saying, "We'll be back, we're a crack"

Now don't you think we might have heard all that before
Yeah, don't you think we might have heard all that before

Born host to a tongue so sing a song about it
Held our breath for too long till we're half sick about it
Tell us what we did wrong and you can blame us
Turn the clamp on our thumbs so we're down about it