| They said the hand of God delivered the blow
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| But all that I know, it weren’t him that nearly killed you
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| I let you down, I never carried you home
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| I left you alone, to fend there for yourself
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| I see you out sometimes hung, drawn and square
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| You’re my Fraisse, the faces filled with sadness
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| For all that you gained, you still look hungry and weak
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| When I speak, I remember where I’m from
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| Well, it’s a long way back to the Meadway
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| It’s a long way back to the Strood
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| It’s a long way back to the Colosseum
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| When we had faces, Jude
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| When we had faces, Jude
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| I heard they filled your head with stories of joy
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| Said I could destroy the good things laid before you
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| I worked it out, but knew that you’d never hear
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| It’s strange how a year can cancel out a life
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| Well, it’s a long way back to the Meadway
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| It’s a long way back to the Strood
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| It’s a long way back to the Colosseum
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| When we had faces, Jude
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| When we had faces, Jude
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| Sometimes I go back, but I never stay
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| It’s wasting away, the world that we grew up in
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| One day you will see me down on the street
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| And when you hear me speak, you’ll remember where you’re from |