| London, summer '92
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| I think I’ve changed a lot since then, Do you?
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| Ideas that I’d held for years, emotional baggage, hopes and fears
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| Seen somehow in a different light, not as wrong, but not as right as they
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| seemed before
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| Was I different then?
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| Have I changed?
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| And will I change again?
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| I’m thinking of a mental free-fall, a partial total memory recall like what of
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| the future, what of the past, what of the present will last?
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| And say I did forget and revert to the old days, forget this hurt
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| Am I better off or in reverse, untaught by experience and therefore worse?
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| I mean a lot, I mean a little
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| I mean a lot, I mean a little
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| I’m like a coastline, a beach and spit
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| Spurn Point and the rest of it
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| The sea, the tide, the salt and foam
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| I’m the blasted land, the sand shifting, drifting out and back, then breached,
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| drowned, defenses down, rebuilt from this day on
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| Or maybe not, maybe my moment’s gone
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| I mean a lot, I mean a little
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| I mean a lot, I mean a little
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| Am I the same person I seemed to be?
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| Does all of this depress me?
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| I won’t listen, I won’t talk
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| A weightless life, I moonwalk
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| I mean a lot, I mean a little
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| I’m supple, brittle, pig in the middle
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| There’s resilience inside my face, but sometimes nothing
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| Deep space
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| What I feel and what I fear is always here my atmosphere
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| Pig in the middle
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| I mean a lot, I mean a little
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| I mean a lot, I mean a little |