| I’ll lose some sales and my boss won’t be happy
|
| But I can’t stop listening to the sound
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| Of two soft voices blended in perfection
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| From the reels of this record that I’ve found
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| Every day there’s a boy in the mirror asking me
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| «What are you doing here?»
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| Finding all my previous motives
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| Growing increasingly unclear
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| I’ve traveled far and I’ve burned all the bridges
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| I believed as soon as I hit land
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| All the other options held before me
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| Would wither in the light of my plan
|
| So I’ll lose some sales and my boss won’t be happy
|
| But there’s only one thing on my mind
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| Searching boxes underneath the counter
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| On a chance that on a tape I’d find
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| A song for someone who needs somewhere to long for
|
| Homesick
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| Because I no longer know where home is |