| We came out of the country and drove into the cityscape —
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| Like every other one in America, it’s a black and white town
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| You were sitting beside me, neither of us in good shape
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| Leaning on one another and coming back down
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| We had walked miles along Cape Cod, I was right behind you
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| Watching your hips move, and the cloudy sky —
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| The ocean was cold, by God, you were stiff and your lips were blue
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| It ain’t hard to find the groove when you don’t have to try
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| Truck parked by the Yellow Dog, I had gone way upstream
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| You sat in your lawn chair, so sad and alone
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| And I recall how your eyes would fog when you went deep into your dream
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| You and the sky were both bare, down to the bone
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| I’m a shy exhibitionist standing by a window
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| Thinking about a woman from Boston town
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| How she danced in a slow twist, how wide her arms would go
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| When the city night was coming in, and the sun going down
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| You can walk down the avenue with your coat all around you
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| And all the phantoms glowing just as bright as can be
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| Yeah, but what really gets through to you, where is the one who found you
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| When everything was showing on the day you felt free
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| I was just wondering where the wild swans gather
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| And if you ever stand in their glory like we did that day
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| When the sky was thundering and we were all the way together
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| In the middle of a big story that doesn’t fade away |