| Make a hole with a gun perpendicular
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| To the name of this town in a desktop globe
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| Exit wound in a foreign nation
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| Showing the home of the one this was written for
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| My apartment looks upside down from there
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| Water spirals the wrong way out the sink
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| And her voice is a backwards record
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| It’s like a whirlpool and it never ends
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| Ana Ng and I are getting old
|
| And we still haven’t walked in the glow
|
| Of each others' majestic presence
|
| Listen, Ana, hear my words
|
| They’re the ones you would think I would say
|
| If there was a me for you
|
| All alone at the '64 World’s Fair
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| 80 dolls yelling «Small girl after all»
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| Who was at the DuPont pavilion?
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| Why was the bench still warm?
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| Who had been there?
|
| Or the time when the storm tangled up the wire
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| To the horn on the pole at the bus depot
|
| And in back of the edge of hearing
|
| These are the words that the voice was repeating
|
| Ana Ng and I are getting old
|
| And we still haven’t walked in the glow
|
| Of each others' majestic presence
|
| Listen, Ana, hear my words
|
| They’re the ones you would think I would say
|
| If there was a me for you
|
| When I was driving once
|
| I saw this painted on a bridge
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| «I don’t want the world, I just want your half»
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| They don’t need me here, and I know you’re there
|
| Where the world goes by like the humid air
|
| And it sticks like a broken record
|
| Everything sticks like a broken record
|
| Everything sticks until it goes away
|
| And the truth is we don’t know anything
|
| Ana Ng and I are getting old
|
| And we still haven’t walked in the glow
|
| Of each others' majestic presence
|
| Listen, Ana, hear my words
|
| They’re the ones you would think I would say
|
| If there was a me for you
|
| Ana Ng and I are getting old
|
| And we still haven’t walked in the glow
|
| Of each others' majestic presence
|
| Listen, Ana, hear my words
|
| They’re the ones you would think I would say
|
| If there was a me for you
|
| Ana Ng and I are getting old
|
| And we still haven’t walked in the glow
|
| Of each others' majestic presence
|
| Listen, Ana, hear my words
|
| They’re the ones you would think I would say
|
| If there was a me for you
|
| Ana Ng and I are getting old
|
| And we still haven’t walked in the glow
|
| Of each others' majestic presence
|
| Listen, Ana, hear my words
|
| They’re the ones you would think I would say
|
| If there was a me for you |