| Apartment in New York, London and Paris
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| Where will we rest, we’re all living on top of it
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| It’s all that we have the USA our daily bread
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| And no one is willing to share it
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| Why can’t we see our fortunancy
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| Living as legends have lived
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| Bane and dismannered
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| We coax all the time
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| Knowing that nothing is left when we die
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| Come along Fool,
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| A direct hit to the sense you’re disconnected
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| It’s not that it’s bad, it’s not that it’s death
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| It’s just that it’s on the tip of your tongue and you’re so silent
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| Wanting to live and laugh all the time
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| Sitting alone with you tea and your crime
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| Children with kids and people with parents
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| Any which way there’s no past and no present
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| When the day comes and all of them bums
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| Will reveal enchanting persons
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| Come along Fool,
|
| A direct hit to the sense you’re disconnected
|
| It’s not that it’s bad, it’s not that it’s death
|
| It’s just that it’s on the tip of your tongue and you’re so silent
|
| When it’s a rut and baby’s no luck
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| Half of it’s misunderstanding love
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| The war we have won we’re winning again
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| Within ourselves and within our friends
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| Come along Fool,
|
| A direct hit to the sense you’re disconnected
|
| It’s not that it’s bad, it’s not that it’s death
|
| It’s just that it’s on the tip of your tongue and you’re so silent |