| Oh na, na, oh no Oh yea
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| Forgive my reveries of rapturous days in December
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| Indulge me if I cut a single orchid in your name
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| Perhaps my senses are a kaleidoscope forever yearning
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| And I am all at once so helpless to dissuade
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| It turns and turns a thousand days
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| (The love you give, the love you give)
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| With wings to lift my spirit high
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| (The love you give oh)
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| Across the desert hills
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| My path was marked by stars above me Moonlit desires to trace our figures in the sand
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| Smooth alabaster carpet flying slowly
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| And we are free to set our souls out to the wind
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| It turns and turns a thousand days
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| (The love you give, the love you give)
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| With wings to lift my spirit high
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| (The love you give oh, eh)
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| Oh yea
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| The love you give
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| Blowing my mind
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| See the locket in your name
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| Forgive my revelry
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| Standing still here alone
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| Oh Enchanted, standing still
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| In the honey-mustard fields of India
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| Forever warm December breezes in our hearts
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| The truest lines ever discovered you found to bring me
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| «Sonnets from the Portuguese»
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| Only lovers can explain
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| Lovers can explain
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| (The love you give, the love you give)
|
| It turns and turns a thousand days
|
| (The love you give, the love you give)
|
| (The love you give, the love you give)
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| With wings to lift my spirit high
|
| (The love you give, oh no, no)
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| It turns and turns a thousand days
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| Love you give |