| A hot and windy August afternoon
|
| Has the trees in constant motion
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| With a flash of silver leaves
|
| As they’re rocking in the breeze
|
| The boy lies in the grass with one blade
|
| Stuck between his teeth
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| A vague sensation quickens
|
| In his young and restless heart
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| And a bright and nameless vision
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| Has him longing to depart
|
| You move me, you move me
|
| With your buildings and your eyes
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| Autumn woods and winter skies
|
| You move me, you move me
|
| Open sea and city lights
|
| Busy streets and dizzy heights
|
| You call me, you call me
|
| The fawn-eyed girl with sun-browned legs
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| Dances on the edge of his dream
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| And her voice rings in his ears
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| Like the music of the spheres
|
| The boy lies in the grass, unmoving
|
| Staring at the sky
|
| His mother starts to call him
|
| As a hawk goes soaring by
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| And the boy pulls down his baseball cap
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| And covers up his eyes
|
| You move me, you move me
|
| With your buildings and your eyes
|
| Autumn woods and winter skies
|
| You move me, you move me
|
| Open sea and city lights
|
| Busy streets and dizzy heights
|
| You call me, you call me
|
| Too many hands on my time
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| Too many feelings
|
| Too many things on my mind
|
| When I leave I don’t know
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| What I’m hoping to find
|
| And when I leave I don’t know
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| What I’m leaving behind |