| Red sun going down, way over dirty town
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| Starlings they’re sweeping around, crazy shoals
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| Yes and a girl is there, high heeling across the square
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| The wind, it blows around in her hair and the flags upon the poles
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| Waiting in the crowd to cross at the light
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| She looks around to find a face she can like
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| Church bell clinging on distant, trying to get a crowd for Evensong
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| Nobody cares to depend upon the chimes it plays
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| They’re all in the station praying for trains
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| Congregation’s late again
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| It’s getting darker all the time, these flagpole days
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| Drunk old soldier he gives her a fright
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| He’s a crazy lion, he’s a-howling for a fight
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| Strap hanging, gunshots sound
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| Doors slamming on the Overground
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| Starlings are tough but the lions are made of stone
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| Her evening paper is horror torn
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| But there’s hope for later, Capricorn
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| Her lucky stars give her just enough to get her home
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| Then she’ll read about a swing to the right
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| But she’s been thinking about a stranger in the night
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| I’m thinking about the lions
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| Thinking about the lions
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| What happened to the lions
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| Tonight, tonight, tonight
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| Thinking about the lions
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| Thinking about the lions |