| When Brooklyn breaks into Saturday
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| The club rats scurrying away
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| And closing out and closing in
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| It’s rare that something then begins
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| With promises like shining lights
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| Amidst the dawn of dying night
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| Through ringing amps and flattened beer
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| And all my cues for getting out of here
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| But Cara let the moon come in
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| And windowsills again have room
|
| Cara let the moon come in
|
| And for a time I’m high as noon
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| Cara let the moon come in
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| And I was sad I had to run
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| But Cara let the moon come in
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| And past upon the evening sun
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| Now I’m an old and broken me
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| Too many rides upon the wind
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| That carries hawks across the sea
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| To hunt and shiver for their sins
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| Too many dreams are left to stand
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| Until the tide can knock them down
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| But remembering I reach my hand
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| In case a few are still around
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| 'Cause Cara let the moon come in
|
| And windowsills again have room
|
| Cara let the moon come in
|
| And for a time I’m high as noon
|
| Cara let the moon come in
|
| And I was sad our set was done
|
| But Cara let the moon come in
|
| And past upon the evening sun
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| So pass the bottle, Pack the bowl
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| Let’s swap our tales of rock n’roll
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| We have until the engine strums
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| And the Prevo sails to Kingdom Come
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| Cara let the moon come in
|
| And windowsills again have room
|
| Cara let the moon come in
|
| And for a time I’m high as noon
|
| Cara let the moon come in
|
| And a profoundness had begun
|
| But Cara let the moon come in
|
| And past upon the evening’s son |