I will come, I will not wait for the right day,
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After all, there will be no suitable ones, while they are still able to understand.
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I will arrive before the court suddenly delivered a verdict,
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Until the credit stunned the beard with a hook.
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In my mind, I didn’t believe that we are enemies,
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So far, direct trains, and there is blabla or sharing.
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Yes, even for days on dogs, narrow-gauge trolley,
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I'll come, no paralysis yet, no Alzheimer's.
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I will come without a reason, let me have to live in a hotel,
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After all, a reason is needed as an excuse for us not to see each other for years.
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We all bend in the mines to wash up a grain of success.
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I will come to let you know that you can just pick up and come.
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In your city, as in mine, twilight and decay,
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We live in different submarines, but in the same boiler.
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Assault to the top or life crushed in the corner -
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I'll come to divide everything in half, beds on the floor.
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Strangers will again shelter us on the way to our own,
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The world will not agree to be humanly simple.
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White spot land, you tell me about it,
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A story warms with a candle if the hearth is cold.
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I'll come to see what they sing about in your area,
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I'll come to see if you can see my lighthouse from your cliff,
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What ocean of water salts your nerve,
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I'll come to see what war you're fighting in.
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How do you like a strange climate, how is the local sun,
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What is yours and what is past, who of all the strangers,
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I began to write a book with you, in each letter a week,
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Where is love, and where is the yoke? |
What is your TV broadcasting?
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Entered or merged? |
Is life moving or dreaming?
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Do you understand faces? |
Just a buzz or a principle?
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Lulled conscience, or fought to the blood?
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I'll take tea with me on the road, who will open the door for me.
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I will come to look at the sky from your rooftops.
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I'm coming to find out who we are.
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And behind the seven forests there will be only one exam -
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So that in a faceless crowd we recognize each other.
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Strangers will again shelter us on the way to our own,
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The world will not agree to be humanly simple.
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White spot land, you tell me about it,
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A story warms with a candle if the hearth is cold.
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Strangers will again shelter us on the way to our own,
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The world will not agree to be humanly simple.
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White spot land, you tell me about it,
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A story warms with a candle if the hearth is cold. |