| There is something I have to say
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| Cause I’m leaving some time today
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| And I can’t tell when I’ll be back
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| It’s easy to imagine me here
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| The phone keeps a voice so near
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| But that kind of exchange hides the fact
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| That I’m going so very far
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| And today I know who you are
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| But tomorrow this space will make us other so
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| Can we find communion again
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| In the bedroom or just as friends?
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| Is there difference between in lives like ours?
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| I feel deserving of love
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| Can it be something I dispose of
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| Or put away in a box under the bed?
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| Will it rot there and spoil my days
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| Or recharge them in other ways?
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| Will it lift me to heights when I am dead?
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| But if I cannot live for you
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| But for other, still, eyes I do
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| How then will you absorb this word
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| «Goodbye». |