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Cousins |
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Maybe you think, a lot like me |
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Of those who live beside the sea |
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Who feel so free, so I surmise |
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With their comfortable homes and wives |
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Who end up drinking tea together |
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In the afternoon of their lives. |
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They build their homes upon the seashore |
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The quicksand castles of their dreams |
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Yet take no notice of the North wind |
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Which tears their buildings at the seams. |
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In their dismay and blind confusion |
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The weeping widows clutch their shawls |
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While as the sea mist ever deepens |
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The sailors hear the sirens' calls. |
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And in the maelstrom sea which follows |
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The lifeboat sinks without a trace |
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And yet there still remain survivors |
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To bear the shame of their disgrace. |
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Last night I lay in bed and held myself |
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Trying to remember how it once was with you |
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How your hands were softer. |
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Yesterday I found myself staring into space |
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Rather like the sailor in my own home surroundings |
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I'm not sure I know me. |
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If you were me, what would you do ? |
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Don't tell me I don't need you to |
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It won't help me now. |
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If you were me, what would you do ? |
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Don't tell me I don't need you to |
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It won't help me now. |