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Cold-Blooded Old Times

Bill Callahan
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Cold-blooded old times
Cold-blooded old times
Cold-blooded old times

The type of memories
That turn your bones to glass
Turn your bones to glass

Mother came rushing in
She said we didn't see a thing
We said we didn't see a thing

And father left at eight
Nearly splintering the gate
Cold-blooded old times

Cold-blooded old times
Cold-blooded old times
Cold-blooded old times

The type of memories
That turn your bones
Turn your bones to glass

And though you were
Just a little squirrel
You understood every word

And in this way
They gave you clarity
A cold-blooded clarity

Cold-blooded old times
Cold-blooded old times
The type of memories
That turn your bones
Turn your bones to glass

Though how can I stand
And laugh with the man
Who redefined your body?

How can I stand
And laugh with the little man
Who can flows over you and your little body?

Those cold-blooded old times
Cold-blooded old times
Cold-blooded old times

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