| We meet on symetric gates,
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| and walk arround the museum
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| and its, fashion rooms,
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| thanking god the honour of being instructed by you
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| lost in my silver plans, far away from stupid hours of loneliness, wasting on
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| my time with a complete unspired man,
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| that’s you.
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| and then your glorius signs, point me to a picture
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| then I raise my eyes, taking it for klimt when it was really paul cezanne,
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| I said allright, mrs culture, how about a shag? |
| in the gold tap ladies let’s
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| make love.
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| I said allright, Mr blokhead, this time is overcoming, the worst I never had
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| On the moon, Macba girl, Just like you, In a dirty world
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| We leave the symetric gates, went back to the city and its dirty rooms,
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| thanking god the honour of being destroyed by you
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| we arrived to a final park, I hope you understand that we can work it out,
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| I’m sorry but the fate it’s that we are two worlds apart
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| On the moon, Macba girl…
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| part 3, I see you saying bye to me, but the boy your farewell is real
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| part 4 I never recognize I am wrong, cos I don’t want to fell my heart breaking
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| On the moon, Macba girl…
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| We can break them all. |
| and break their rules, can break it all away,
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| Just defiying against nature. |