| Binds the world in a feeling all familiar
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| 'Cause everybody owns the greats ideas
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| And it feels like there’s a big one round the corner
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| A tenner, up and out into New York
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| Somewhere in all that talk is all the answers
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| And oh, my giddy aunt, New York can talk
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| It’s the modern road where folk are nice to Yoko
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| Every bone of rivet steel, each corner stone an anchor
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| Jenga jutts and rusty water tower, pillar posted sign
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| Every painted lining battered like a building in this town
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| Sings a life of proud endeavor and the best that man can be Me, I see a city and I hear a million voices
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| Planning, drilling, welding, carrying their fingers to the nub
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| Reaching down into the ground, stretching up into the sky
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| Why?
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| Because they can, they didn’t do so you and I could live together
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| Oh my god, New York can talk
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| Somewhere in all that talk is all the answers
|
| Everybody owns the greats ideas
|
| And it feels like there’s a big one round the corner
|
| Oh my god, New York can talk
|
| Somewhere in all that talk is all the answers
|
| Everybody owns the greats ideas
|
| And it feels like there’s a big one round the corner
|
| Oh my god, New York can talk
|
| Somewhere in all that talk is all the answers
|
| Everybody owns the greats ideas
|
| And it feels like there’s a big one round the corner
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| The desire to part sure symphony
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| The desire like a distant storm
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| For love, be good for me It feels like there’s a big one round the corner
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| Oh my god, New York, you talk
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| Somewhere in all that talk is all the answers
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| Everybody owns the greats ideas
|
| And it feels like there’s a big one round the corner
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| The way the day begins
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| Decides the shade of everything
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| But the way it ends depends on if you’re home
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| For every soul, a pillow at a window, please
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| In a modern room, where folk are nice to Yoko |