| In the evening when the day goes down
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| Lucy leaves the city lights
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| Stands and watches, with her coat pulled around
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| How the neon hits the skies
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| Sometimes she thinks she knows him
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| Sometimes his outline’s just a blur
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| But he’s always there on her mind
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| She finds a window seat on the subway home
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| Places her handbag by her feet
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| Re-reads a message on her phone
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| A little something to keep him real
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| Sometimes she thinks she sees him
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| Hears the turnstile click behind a blur
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| As if he’s homebound just like her
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| Sometimes she thinks she loves him
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| Sometimes his outline’s just a blur
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| But he’s always there on her mind
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| All the changing faces passing through
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| They never bothered her at all
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| They’re just a backdrop that ties the light
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| Into patterns on the wall
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| Sometimes she thinks she hears him
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| When the handle turns on their front door
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| As if he’s there, like before
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| When you come back home
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| When you turn the key
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| Is he still there with you?
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| Is he within reach? |