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Looking at the water |
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Through the spaces of an iron-ore train |
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The water eddies round the rushes |
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And Eddies round at my house, insane. |
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The breakers in the distance |
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Cut the air like the crackle of a CB rig. |
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They found a crack in Eddie |
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And they tore it down, and snapped him like a twig. |
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His head is full of Goose Green |
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Tastes the smoke from the damp grass, well alight |
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And Eddie's waiting for the choppers |
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And he goes on waiting long into the night. |
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And I thought I heard a voice |
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Didn't someone here just whisper, "Rejoice". |
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The harbour's filled with newsmen, |
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Little boats go bobbing, like a Dunkirk repeat |
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To a train ride and a welcome |
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And "Well done, Eddie" right across the street. |
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The water's grey and choppy |
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On the Lake out by the fairground big wheel. |
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We could circle it forever |
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But we'd never guess the way that Eddie feels. |