There are bare walls on the balcony, yes carpet,
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A cascade of smoke, these shots are like a stupid movie.
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As if broken, but something drives it into Google,
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On extradition instead of piles of nonsense.
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The walls rub like tight shoes, I wish I could take them off,
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the song became honest, go out, take it off.
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Obviously, so our common puzzle to disassemble,
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Not up to sleep and wild spam in my thoughts, somehow strange there.
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Frames beyond which it is so easy not to go,
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There is no way out, or we just don't see it.
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Many roads go to you, a drum in the track,
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And you and I are different cities,
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Changed the ceiling to the sky,
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To see you before the clouds see the sunset.
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And the world rushes through the window,
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In which the sun will burn the sand or snow will fall.
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Who goes where, and I to you, who goes where, and I to you,
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Who goes where, and I to you.
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How many times we pressed the stop before we saw the open space.
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, hear the ringtone, read the text,
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Where are you? |
I answer briefly that I am to you.
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Through barriers of words, through hundreds of dreams,
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Or we meet the sun as the east on the way.
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And maybe we fall off our feet and we reach for each other again like flowers in spring,
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Through the summer heat, together again everywhere we are at home.
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After all, voices in the wire, voices in pipes are not enough for us,
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Meetings are not difficult, the world is round.
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Many roads go to you, a drum in the track,
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And you and I are different cities,
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Changed the ceiling to the sky,
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To see you before the clouds see the sunset.
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And the world rushes through the window,
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In which the sun will burn the sand or snow will fall.
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Who goes where, and I to you, who goes where, and I to you,
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Who goes where, and I to you. |