| As I walked out one morning fair
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| I found myself drawn thoughtlessly
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| Back to the place we used to live
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| And you still do, now without me
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| Around the back, away from the road
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| Behind the bins, beneath your window
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| I found the hulk, a rusting bulk
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| Of a shattered old piano
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| Someone had torn out some of the keys
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| With cruel care, not thoughtlessly
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| In such a way that one could only play
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| Minor melodies
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| So I sat down in my sadness, beneath your window
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| And I played sad songs on the minor keys of a broken piano
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| A sinner amongst saved men, on the banks of the muddy Thames
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| As I have wandered through this city
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| Like a child lost in the London fog
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| From Highgate Hill, down to the river
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| Then washed downstream past the Isle of Dogs
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| Had time enough to think upon
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| The question of what kind of songs
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| That you would choose to listen to
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| Now that I am gone
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| And as I float beneath that bridge
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| Just down the road from where you live
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| I’ve often thought I might have caught
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| Your voice upon the wind
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| But as I stroked those broken keys
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| You did not join in harmony
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| On the banks of the muddy Thames
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| On the banks of the muddy Thames |