| The day…
|
| That it became…
|
| Clear…
|
| Was…
|
| The first time that I saw you for the 150th time
|
| But can you blame me?
|
| I was reaching, reaching…
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| Halfway across the Atlantic Ocean
|
| The place…
|
| It socked my square jaw face…
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| My toe had dipped to rate
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| And you grabbed me, in up to my waist
|
| Contrary to unpopular opinion, the water was welcoming warm
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| And we slid easily
|
| Wrapped up and reaching, reaching…
|
| Halfway across the Atlantic Ocean
|
| GONE, GONE, GONE: I have enough rope when you’re
|
| Gone, gone, gone. |
| The oven’s cozy when you’re
|
| Gone, gone, gone. |
| Prescriptions filled when you are
|
| Gone
|
| The time… I grope to find
|
| That there is no sign…
|
| With bottomless hope, I’ll dive
|
| Then, I will swim 'til my limbs are numb and dim
|
| With a paralysed hip, I’ll slip, fingertips to sea lip
|
| Eternally reaching, more than
|
| Halfway across the semantic ocean
|
| GONE, GONE, GONE: I have enough rope when you’re
|
| Gone, gone, gone. |
| The oven’s cozy when you’re
|
| Gone, gone, gone. |
| Prescriptions filled when you are
|
| Gone, gone, gone. |
| It’s cocked and loaded when you’re
|
| Gone, gone, gone. |
| My knives get sharpened when you’re
|
| Gone, gone, gone. |
| It tastes like almonds when you’re
|
| Gone, gone, gone. |
| The traffic’s playful when you’re
|
| Gone. |
| Take flying leaps when you are
|
| Gone. |
| Autoerotic when you’re
|
| Gone. |
| See, I’ll be fine when you are
|
| Gone |