| Every night, he comes home late
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| And if she’s lucky he’ll just pass her by
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| Every night, she sits and waits
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| Though he never thought to ask her why
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| Broken table in the kitchen, neighbours wake and listen
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| He complains about the mess in the place
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| In the morning she’ll forgive him, think of any reason
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| To forget about the state of her face
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| She’s got a no return ticket on an overnight train
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| As it pulls away from Jericho Bay
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| She leaves a sleepy town station and a simple gold ring
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| As a souvenir of Jericho Bay
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| Everyday, she counted the hours
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| And the weeks she counted on the wall
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| Everyday, just a little older
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| Everyday just like the one before
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| She never told her mother, never told her father
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| Never wasted one single tear
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| Her secret safely hidden, no word of explanation
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| She packs her bag and closes the door
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| She’s got a no return ticket on an overnight train
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| As it pulls away from Jericho Bay
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| She’s got a secondhand suitcase, her Sunday dress on
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| And a photograph of Jericho Bay
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| She leaves a sleepy town station and a simple gold ring
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| As a souvenir of Jericho Bay
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| And she can hear the rails singing, way up to the moon
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| Hanging yellow over Jericho bay
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| And she’ll never be back again |