| Here are several pictures and pictures mean the past
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| Here’s a pretty desert scene and here a sea of grass
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| Likely orchards and vacant lots, big men grinning and holding hands
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| All the time the season’s win and everything is lost
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| Something said’s been said before but it’s often worth repeating
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| All the times that made the world are slipping into forgetting
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| How are you and what did you do before you started thinking?
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| I am fine and shaky still, this side of things gets clearer
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| I’ll never have the time to suffer my easy past
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| I’ll never have a camera to distub my rosy past
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| I’ll never have a sober night whilst the drink lasts
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| Here is a picture, I guess he’s probably dead
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| Here’s another picture, the fantastic three off their heads
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| Ignore this Western trip, little thing, there’s so many other ideas
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| I live in the songlines of boys from all over the world
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| Something said’s been said before and here I am repeating
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| That all the times that made my world cannot be forgotten
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| And I’ll never have a camera to keep these lies
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| Here am I sitting in the sun with burning skin and a big red book
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| And here are you on holiday, I wonder if you still look that way
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| These damn pictures
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| I could forget
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| Things so quickly
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| But they’re always here
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| I cannot throw
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| Memories away
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| Here comes the sickler
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| With his brand new polaroids
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| Here are several pictures and pictures mean the past
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| Here I go into fogginess, all my past destroyed |