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Come on out Georgina, they have all gone. |
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Come on, and drink the linctus, |
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We'll move out of the bed-sits... |
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Now we're not too young, |
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But our chance has landed and we're just so imminent, |
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Yet you seem so distant. |
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The nights crow's been landing lately... |
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He's in cahoots with the slim white lady... |
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Away for Benelux... |
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You take the shrill echo away when I pray for better luck. |
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You can call this a Swan song. |
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You can carry me through scilences so awkward, |
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See me and raise a sentence, a turn of phrase, |
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A breaking omnipotent waves of youth in it's last flushes, |
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Let eyes retain their brilliance, keep the crows from landing, |
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And the span of their web spreading, |
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In cahoots with the slim white lady... |
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In cahoots with the slim white lady, |
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Cahoots with the slim white lady... |
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Away for Benelux... |
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You take the shrill echo away when I pray for better luck. |
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We'll soar from bridges to the swans, |
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Our bullets into the water become the bird of song. |
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You can call this a Swan song. |
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I love the way you are late. |
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I'm coming home for Christmas, to hold open your weight. |
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Hold open your weight. |