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So where do we begin? It must be thirty-five years . . . |
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You've the breath of my mother, the life of a stranger; |
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and there's so much to tell - so much I need to know. |
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All of the stories, and reasons |
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But your face I remember and your breath I remember |
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Take me in your arms, take me in your arms |
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So go out tonight and look up at the stars, |
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the light that you see is as old as I am. |
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And that's what I see, when I gaze in your eyes |
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Loving a ghost lost in confusion of time - but our love remains |
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through these brightest hours. |
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And my secret world |
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And your face I remember - and your breath I remember |
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Take me in your arms, take me in your arms |