| I don’t know where I went last night
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| What bar, what park, what beach
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| Did I cross to the other side
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| Or just move in-between
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| Yet the uncontrollable apprehensions remain
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| A distinct sense of guilt
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| That faint sense of perfume
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| What dark thoughts
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| My mind’s a blank but for a faint reminiscence
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| Was she real, or maybe a dream
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| But last night I slept from 7 o’clock
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| Right through to this morning
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| I rested well apart from a recurring nightmare
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| So when the homicide people ask me questions
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| I’ll tell them about my dreams |