| Let’s see a show of hands for every human-being
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| Repeating identical evenings again and again and again.
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| Life’s one long game of whisper down the lane
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| Where the faces change, but results remain the same.
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| So here we are. |
| No cause for alarm
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| Watching replays of a decades worth of days.
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| And you’re a lyric in my head I haven’t thought of yet,
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| But I can still describe the turn of phrase.
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| I don’t want what this evening will become if we have enough time.
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| So do we have enough time?
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| I don’t need these evenings to repeat if we’ve had enough time.
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| So have we had enough time?
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| Like corresponding lines in the cement,
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| It’s a journey from the doorway to the bed as we unravel to the floor.
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| Perfection from the start, but perfection is a dying art.
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| Just steady repetition I can’t ignore.
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| So here we are. |
| No cause for alarm
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| Watching you replay on a decades worth of days.
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| And you’re a lyric in my head I haven’t thought of yet,
|
| But I can still describe your turn of phrase.
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| All along Armitage Avenue, I kept the pace with you.
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| I don’t want what this evening will become if we have enough time.
|
| So do we have enough time?
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| I don’t need these evenings to repeat if we’ve had enough time.
|
| So have we had enough time?
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| You’re a lyric in my head I haven’t thought of yet.
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| All along Armitage Avenue. |