| On the doorstep don’t know where I am
|
| Nowhere left to go
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| On the doorstep I’m so tired
|
| Can’t think anymore
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| On the doorstep, no use in hiding
|
| Try and ring the bell
|
| On the doorstep, the lights are shining
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| In this vacant hotel
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| From the howl of the Baltic Sea
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| To the Blue Mountain’s silent plea
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| Your unwelcome invitation
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| I’ve carried with me
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| On the doorstep, I can’t fight it
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| This flame’s burning low
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| On the doorstep, time is sliding
|
| For the last picture show
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| From effervescing crowds of New Orleans
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| To Atahaulpa’s stoic retinue
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| This needle on my compass
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| It pointed towards you
|
| Neon lights glowing from the bandstand
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| Was it all a dream?
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| An angry glare from fluorescent-damned-lamps
|
| What was in-between?
|
| Here I am clearing all the years of cob-webs
|
| On the doorstep
|
| On the doorstep lying silent
|
| Nobody’s home
|
| On the doorstep, no longer frightened
|
| No need to post pone
|
| From the last bench of a city tram
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| To the front seat of a limousine
|
| I have all but forgotten
|
| What was in-between
|
| What was in-between? |