Dancing on the Edge of Our Graves - Born Ruffians

Four thousand four hundred days and we’re still swimming deeper

Two nameless decades, now our memories go into the aether

We get so lost sometimes

Filling holes that don’t need fixing

And tide is rushing under foot, we’re walking heavy

Poor hunter named Stanley and his youngest daughter Rita

Ran all the way into Chicago, got lost in the winter

They’d get so cold sometimes

Crossing train tracks, lifting rations

At night under a sea and bridge he’d sit and tell her

How some people don’t change

I think they’re strange

So do you

Out of their range

I feel the rage

Coming soon

Dancing, dancing on the edge of our graves

Dancing on the edge of our

Dancing, dancing on the edge of our graves

Dancing on the edge of our

We’re dancing on the edge of our graves

Four thousand four hundred days and we’re still swimming deeper

Two nameless decades, now our memories go into the aether

We get so lost sometimes

Filling holes that don’t need fixing

And hiding footprints in the snow, we’re walking heavy

Now some people are strange

I hope they change

So do you

Out of their range

I feel the ash coming to consume

Dancing, dancing on the edge of our graves

Dancing on the edge of our

Dancing, dancing on the edge of our graves

Dancing on the edge of our

We’re dancing on the edge of our graves

Dancing, dancing on the edge of our graves

Dancing on the edge of our

Dancing, dancing on the edge of our graves

Dancing on the edge of our