| In the 1970s
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| When everyone could do just what they wanted to
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| Sex was like a handshake between friends
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| But now that life and death and destiny
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| Are in you when you’re next to me
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| Tell me that you’ll love me till the end
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| And tell me you’ll be there
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| If I ever find
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| I’ve only got one kidney left
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| And tell me you’ll be there
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| When I’ve only got one eye
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| And say that you’ll be there to care for me
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| When a wheelchair is my chair
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| You’ll be there upon the day I die
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| Enlightenment in the nowness of now
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| All we have is the nowness of now
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| Enlighten me to the nowness of now
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| All we have is the nowness of now
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| In the doctor’s surgery I keep my fingers crossed
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| Because I know the cost
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| This test for positivity implies
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| Still I do this willingly
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| Because I want to know what I don’t want to know
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| Unthinkable thoughts are thoughts we have to try
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| So tell me you’ll be there
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| When my head’s on backwards
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| And my skin is turning green
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| And tell me you’ll be there
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| When my brain has turned to glue
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| And tell me you’ll still be my baby
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| When my guts are on the floor
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| And when I’m paralytic will you still be true?
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| In the eighteenth century they said
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| 'We'll shortly know all there is to know
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| All things will be clear to us one day'
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| Well I’m sick to death of optimism
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| Sick to death of the shit it drops us in
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| Will they find a cure for hope? |
| No-one can say
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| But tell me you’ll be there
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| When I’m knocked out flat
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| With a drip feed in my arm
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| And tell me you’ll be there
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| When the swansong starts to fade
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| And when a life support machine
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| Supports me in a coma you’ll be there
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| And when I’m just a cabbage
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| Save me from the spade
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| So tell me you’ll be there
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| When my head’s on backwards
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| And my skin is turning green
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| And tell me you’ll be there
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| When my brain has gone to sand
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| And tell me you’ll still be my baby
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| When my guts are on the floor
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| And when I’m catatonic
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| I’ll still be your man |