| These are haunted days
|
| Bonfire scented autumn days
|
| Someone’s slipped away
|
| And someone’s thoughts
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| Are all in one place
|
| These are haunted days
|
| The year is facing its old age
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| I met her from work at three
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| To see her home
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| So she could catch some sleep
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| Everything’s a little
|
| Everything’s a little thrown
|
| I watched her cry for
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| Someone I didn’t know
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| You can sense it on the wind
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| The wind that sets the trees to singing
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| Hear them whispering how
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| Someone’s gone, someone’s missing
|
| These are haunted days
|
| Sad and golden, underplayed
|
| I met her on Oxford Street to see her home
|
| So she could catch some sleep
|
| These are haunted days
|
| Bonfire scented autumn days
|
| You can’t fix everything that breaks
|
| And someone’s thoughts are all in one place |