| I went to Morisson’s grave at Pere Lachaise cemetery
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| The stony flowers and the matching graffiti were guiding me To the steps inside of me And what would you do if I got down on my knees to you
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| What would you do if I lied to your face
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| Could you still hold your dreams
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| Could you live with your silent face
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| So what would you do would you walk right through me Would you stand in the way like the others before
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| Get in the way
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| Would you drink to me next Beaujolais day
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| Tell me the truth save a prayer for me I would love to leave you but you would cry all night long
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| Eternal romantic victory failed on Beaujolais day
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| I heard a wheelchair whisper across a stale silent gymnasium
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| Trailing an ivy league jacket like a matador
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| Through the jitterbug steps of the night before
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| Through the chalk white chill and the tear fandango
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| Heading away to the inner wrangle
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| Do we cry for a cell
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| Do we need for a cell
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| What would you do would you cry for me Could you set off … could we go gently
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| Blame it away
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| Do you really want to head for the open door
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| Got to crack a bottle while you dream for me Just an absent friend and a misery
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| Laying awake do we stay right there
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| 'Till Beaujolais day
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| On Beaujolais day
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| So what would you do would you lie to me Would you sit right back in a victory
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| Would you play for me Could you die for me So what would you do would you walk right through me Heading away saying it’s just another victory
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| This is Beaujolais day |