| Took a walk in Rotterdam, thinking about her train
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| All along the banls of memory, holding tide away
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| And on the end of every corner i could almost hear her sound
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| Time went by in ecstasy, walking next to walls
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| And the color of the water, was the rails that she was on
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| And when the whistles blew far away, i felt she knew somehow
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| For the train often rattles, from the rails shaking ground
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| I close my eyes and almost hear her now
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| Took a walk in Rotterdam, dodging spoke and wheel
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| And a few unnerving riders, agile or insane
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| And the rest, victims of fashion, lord we’re all to blame
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| Found myself a bar stool, and something on the rocks
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| I was dreaming I could ride the sun, westward as it dropped
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| And find her at the station, gracefully rolling a stop
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| For the train often rattles, from the rails shaking ground
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| I close my eyes and see her westward bound
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| Well i’ll keep that mind a wandering, of love on the rails
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| Slow rolling days, steel pushing home
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| Mile over miles gone in the blink of an eye…
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| For the train often rattles, from the rails shaking ground
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| I close my eyes and see her westward bound… |