| He was just a friend of mine
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| I’d run in to from time to time
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| And long before he moved away
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| We used to share a taste for wine
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| Still I never knew that he was sad back then
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| He said, the time had come, for him, to take a holiday
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| And he says it’s brilliant there
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| There’s something in the air
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| And sunshine everywhere
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| He’s on the beach
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| I know he’s changed somehow, he sends us postcards now
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| I’m not sure where he is, but he is out of reach
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| When he called me up one day
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| And said that he was going away
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| I thought he meant a week in France
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| And not 12,000 miles to Sydney Bay
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| Still he had to take his chances
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| He said, the time had come for him to make a move away
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| And he says it’s brilliant there
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| There’s something in the air
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| And sunshine everywhere
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| He’s on the beach
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| I know he’s changed somehow, he writes us postcards now
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| He’s on his own again and he is out of reach
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| (I bet he gets it on the beach)
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| And I don’t blame him
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| Leaving was the best thing he could do
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| He longed for changes
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| I just hope he’s happy when he does the things he thinks he has to do
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| And he tries, and he tries, yes he tries
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| But he’s a little bit hard on himself
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| So now he’s trying to be someone else
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| And he says, he says, he says it’s brilliant there
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| There’s something in the air
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| And sunshine everywhere
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| He’s on the beach
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| I know he’s changed somehow, it’s in his postcards now
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| He’s on his own again, so far out of reach
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| And he says it’s brilliant there
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| There’s something in the air
|
| And sunshine everywhere
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| He’s on the beach
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| I know he’s changed somehow, it’s in his postcards now
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| He’s in Australia, so far out of reach
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| And he says it’s brilliant there |