| Let me tell you about this torch I carry
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| It’s not much of a career
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| And it won’t make my fortune I fear
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| But it stays alight and won’t be buried
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| It’s brighter year-by-year
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| And someday it will surely disappear
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| When it does I’ll know I’ve laid to rest
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| The ghost of your unhappiness
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| That flits around from room to room
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| A widow on a honeymoon
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| A shadow on a harvest moon
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| So put away this torch you carry
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| For it’s doing you no good
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| And surely you know by now that you should
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| And come the day you die or marry
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| Will you be understood
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| When you say that you wanted but never could
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| Turn your back and lay to rest
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| The ghost of your unhappiness
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| That flits around from room to room
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| A widow on a honey moon
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| A shadow on a harvest moon
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| I write these words to make them true,
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| «I've drowned my torch and so should you.» |