| In the haze of the morning, China sits on Eternity
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| And the opium farmers sell dreams to obscure fraternities
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| On the horizon the curtains are closing
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| Down in the orchard the aunties and uncles play their games
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| Like it seems they always have done
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| In the blue distance the vertical offices bear their names
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| Like it seems they always have done
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| Clocks ticking slowly, dividing the day up
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| These poor girls are such fun
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| They know what God gave them their fingers for
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| To make percussion over solos
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| China my China, I’ve wandered around and you’re still here
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| Which I guess you should be proud of
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| Your walls have enclosed you, have kept you at home for thousands of years
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| But there’s something I should tell you
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| All the young boys, they are dressing like sailors
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| I remember a man who jumped out from a window over the bay
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| There was hardly a raised eyebrow
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| The coroner told me 'This kind of thing happens every day'
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| You see, from a pagoda, the world is so tidy |