| Ohh… You will see them again
|
| but you never left your home town
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| when you had the chance
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| And I don’t, I don’t have your brain muscle
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| so I wrote it out in pencil
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| the marks can’t be erased
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| Erased… Erased
|
| So we’ll move in to the city
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| I’ll send you all the letters
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| for your open mind to read
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| Living in black ball a cat that soothes
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| inviting depth perception
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| with me and only you and me can see
|
| Ohh but you… you speak from of the towers
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| not living within
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| but call me when your sleeping
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| on my I wont call for you
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| Taking power from Middle England
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| when you’re stating where you’re living
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| do you think if you applaud
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| them that they will not come for you
|
| And if you think that something really down
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| has no bearing on the real world
|
| then speak to those who did go out find out
|
| the paper guns make people disappear
|
| Then if you think that something real is down
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| but I had that never were heard of thing
|
| then speak to those who did go out find out
|
| that printed paper can be so threatening
|
| Then if you think that something real is down
|
| but has no bearing of the real world
|
| then speak to those who did go out find out
|
| that paper guns make people disappear |