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With the sense of anticipation burning on his skin |
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and the train of consequences running at full throttle, |
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before the touch, before the kiss, |
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this moment just before their history begins, |
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he'd give anything to put this in a bottle. |
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No sense of time, no sense of place, |
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in case of senselessness he'll swear to her alone, |
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(He'll swear to her alone.) |
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though he knows tomorrow this will be another face he's forgotten |
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(No memory's quite his own) |
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before the fire, before the fall, all this is magical, |
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the future so unknown, |
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he'd pay anything to get this in a bottle, |
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(as if that's a thing he could ever own) |
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he'd pay anything to get this in a bottle. |
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Don Juan had been so careful but he let it slip |
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that the elixir he craved was moist upon her faithless lips |
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and in the hint of her perfume that lingered on his fingertips... |
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distillation. |
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Overstrength, this eau-de-vie. |
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(What a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip finally... |
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He got the bottle, he knocked back the eau-de-vie.) |
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He's stripped of recollection, |
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he's left with no protection, |
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this won't come again, |
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although he always knew that he'd foresee |
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much more than he'd ever remember. |
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(This won't come again.) |
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Losing the thread, losing the plot, |
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it wasn't/not possible to stay on fire as he was then, |
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he'd do anything to breathe life in these embers. |
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(But the secret stays untold...) |
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He'd give anything to get life from these embers. |
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(and the fire has grown cold, cold, cold.) |
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Between the present and the past, his mouth agape |
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and the elixir he drained has twisted essence out of shape; |
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and with dark perfume he is wraithed |
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now that the genie has escaped from the bottle. |
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Sangrial, the eau-d-vie. |
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(What a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip finally... |
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eau-de-vie, eau-de-vie. |
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Don Juan had been so careful but he let it slip. |
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Don Juan had been so careful. |
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Eau-de-vie...) |