| The gulls are crying
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| Missy, can you hear them call?
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| It was so easy then
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| When all our friends were small
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| How we used to like the old-time movies
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| The silent picture show
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| Where you make up your life
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| At the end of the night
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| As your reel to reels unfold
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| Now I come here to score some satisfaction
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| Maybe some more of that old reaction
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| I’m a junkie for that grand illusion
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| Who’s losing and who’s just using
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| I lost my virtue
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| Leading some double life, I fear
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| It was so easy then
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| When all our friends lived near
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| Now I’m left without an advertisement
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| To separate the marks and the shills
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| From these good time blues
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| And two-toned shoes
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| That used to give me chills
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| I come to score, or maybe more
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| I am a junkie for that grand illusion
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| Who’s using who and losing?
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| The summer’s fading
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| I can feel it go
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| It’s slipping through my fingers
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| Like some broken radio
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| The sea gull’s flying
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| Missy, can you hear them call
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| I remember you cried
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| When the summer died
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| Though I wouldn’t cry at all |