| It happens that sometimes life kills and love
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| you put silicone on the locks of your house,
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| or opens a regulatory file for you,
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| and expels you from Eden, to strange lands.
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| It happens that sometimes you leave a bar and the light
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| burn the skin of this vampire who loves you,
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| fills your forehead with fine south-brown powder,
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| you yawn and they burn holes in your wings.
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| But it happens too
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| that, without knowing how or when,
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| something makes your skin crawl
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| and rescues you from the shipwreck.
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| And it's always Friday, summer nap,
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| festival in the village, garlands in May,
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| storms that turn off the television.
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| Telephones that burn, your voice names me,
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| today I have dinner with you, today revolution,
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| kings who lose their crowns,
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| see you in the crowd,
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| hugs that set the dawn on fire
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| on the southern beaches.
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| It happens that sometimes life kills and you find yourself
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| alone and in this non-recyclable heart
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| abandoned oil tankers and suspicions
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| that cause myopia in dagger throwers.
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| It happens that sometimes life kills and winter
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| he takes out his revolver, he puts a gun to your ribs,
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| you're terrified of photo albums and the mirror,
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| the car smells like pine and the sea like gasoline.
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| But it happens too
|
| that, without knowing how or when,
|
| something makes your skin crawl
|
| and rescues you from the shipwreck.
|
| And it's always Friday, summer nap,
|
| festival in the village, garlands in May,
|
| storms that turn off the television.
|
| Telephones that burn, your voice names me,
|
| today I have dinner with you, today revolution,
|
| kings who lose their crowns,
|
| see you in the crowd,
|
| hugs that set the dawn on fire
|
| on the southern beaches.
|
| It happens that sometimes life kills...
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| And it's always Friday, summer nap...
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| Today I dine with you, today revolution... |