| I’ll call my carrier pigeons home
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| From a window where I stand alone
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| I’ll draw the blinds and fall asleep
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| In an attic full of make-believe
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| Where carolers sing below
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| With bells in the falling snow
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| Their shadows against the white
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| On streets of electric light
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| At the bar I’ll watch the news awhile
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| Just to see the anchor woman smile
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| On a stage I’ll sing an Elvis song
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| Just to hear the barmaids sing along
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| Mirrors and razor blades
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| Christmas eve parades
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| A murder by mistletoe
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| Drunks in the falling snow
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| She left him by the night arcade
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| And turned his heart into a spade
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| He turned that lovely blue eyed Jane
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| To a homicide on Campbell Lane
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| Hearing the sirens croon
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| In a familiar room
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| Laying with last year’s love
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| High as the moon above |