XTC — Pulsing Pulsing

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