| There’s a true blue moon in the black city sky
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| But it looks as white as an eyeball from here
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| And I wonder tonight, does it look white from where you are too?
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| And so far every morning, I wake up missing you
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| The sweat in my T-shirts and dust in my shoes
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| Reminds me that paradise is only a point of view
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| You know, everybody here seems to be sleepwalking
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| And pretending that they’re free
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| But they are all owned by Coca-Cola and maintained by vitamin C And there’s freak shows and strip shows and theme parks and all those
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| Standard distractions and curiosities
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| So I smile at strangers like this is the place to be But if you took away the sunshine, dirt would be all you’d see
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| And someone should tell me how to stop feeling small
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| Between sky-scraping offices and twenty-foot Marlboros
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| The squeeze of a hand suggests love at first «How d’you do?»
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| And it’s all so sincere here it just seems insane
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| Last night somebody told me that there’s two ways to fame:
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| You can kill someone or you can dress up and change your name
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| And you can be a has-been without having been anything
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| But the light relief at the end of the news
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| When the hill of things you’ve thrown away is bigger than the things you’ve used
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| But they say you can still see your face in the polish on the President’s shoes
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| So everyone’s laughing and living in style
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| The bill for the dentist as big as the smile
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| I open my eyes and toothpaste is all I see
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| You know, everyone’s so friendly here they just postponed World War Three |