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Words and music by |
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Roddy Frame |
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I feel the magic that our time has traced, |
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And make a point of it in every place. |
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But every place deserves a curse or two, |
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For making me so far away from you. |
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I saw some pictures of the world at war, |
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I couldn't suss what all the fuss was for, |
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I wear a picture of you wearing black, |
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And kissing me behind the butler's back. |
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Sometimes |
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I get down, |
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But it's not you that gets me down, |
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It's just the sense of the impossible, |
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Gratuitously handed down. |
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Chorus: But oh no, not you, don't wipe your eyes over lies, |
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Just let them shine their blue, |
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On every whisper that welcomes the inconceivable, |
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And the birth of the true. |
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I'd sack the world and make a second start, |
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I'd sack my head until |
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I found my heart, |
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I'd fill the distance with a red parade, |
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And burn the banks down while the bugles played. |
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Sometimes |
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I get down, |
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But it's not you that gets me down, |
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It's just the sense of the impossible, |
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Gratuitously handed down. |
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Chorus |