| She may be young but she only likes old things,
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| And modern music it ain’t to her taste,
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| She loves the natural light, captured in black and white,
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| She sees mirages of mountain ranges,
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| Within a blink of her eyes it changes,
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| Back to the open plain, oh no she can’t explain.
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| I cry out «Love keep your arms around me»,
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| I am a bird that’s in need of grounding,
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| I’m built to fly away, I never learned how to stay.
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| The night is gonna fall and the vultures will surround you,
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| And when you’re lookin’in the mirror what you see is gon’astound you.
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| But all these lines and greys refine, they are the maps of our design,
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| Of what began on a Monday morning.
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| Monday morning, Monday morning,
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| Ooh, ooh,
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| Monday morning, Monday morning,
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| Ooh, ooh,
|
| The night is gonna fall and the vultures will surround you,
|
| And when you’re lookin’in the mirror what you see is gon’astound you.
|
| But all these lines and greys refine, they are the maps of our design,
|
| Of what began on a Monday morning.
|
| Oh yes the night is gonna fall, and the vultures will surround you,
|
| And when you’re lookin’in the mirror what you see is gon’astound you.
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| And all the glow of you from inside the room,
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| Is burning on inside of you, it all began on a Monday morning.
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| Monday morning, Monday morning,
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| Ooh, ooh. |