| So I’m there
|
| Charging around with a juggernaut brow
|
| Overdraft speeches and deadlines to make
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| Cramming commitments like cats in a sack
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| Telephone burning and a purposeful gait
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| When out of a doorway the tentacles stretch
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| Of a song that I know
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| And the world moves in slow-mo
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| Straight to my head like the first cigarette of the day
|
| And it’s you, and it’s May
|
| And we’re sleeping through the day
|
| And I’m five years ago
|
| And three thousand miles away
|
| Do I have time? |
| A man of my calibre?
|
| Stood in the street like a sleepwalking teenager? |
| No!
|
| And I dealt with this years ago
|
| I took a hammer to every memento
|
| But image on image like beads on a rosary
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| Pull through my head as the music takes hold
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| And the sickener hits: I can work 'til I break
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| But I love the bones of you
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| That I will never escape
|
| And it’s you, and it’s May
|
| And we’re sleeping through the day
|
| And I’m five years ago
|
| And three thousand miles away
|
| And I can’t move my arm
|
| For fear that you will wake
|
| And I’m five years ago
|
| And three thousand miles away
|
| And I’m five years ago
|
| And three thousand miles away
|
| And I’m five years ago
|
| And three thousand miles away
|
| And it’s you, and it’s May
|
| And we’re sleeping through the day
|
| And I’m five years ago
|
| And three thousand miles away |