| tonight I shall sleep with the ghost of Picasso
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| and I’ll draw the arms of the city close around us
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| 'that one he died' I’ll tell him, and he’ll say
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| 'so did I it’s no big thing'
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| and he’ll paint a blue halo round my head
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| and then he’ll slip cool and calm beside me in my bed
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| and he’ll say, come on, come on
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| tonight I shall sleep with the knowledge and freedom
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| that the one who comes will be wanting only me
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| and when he does, that river, will flow across the moon
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| a silent stream
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| and he’ll tell me that he loves me just the same
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| and that he’s dreamt about me dancing in the falling rain
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| and he’ll say, he’ll say come on, come on |