| Up on the mountain, always alone, there stands a cherry tree
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| Down in the city, always alone, moves the ghost of me
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| I wouldn’t mind, it would be fine, to be joined at the hip with you
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| But the waves crash on rocks and smash the ship in two
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| Ghost story, memento mori, stop and smell the flowers
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| Slack at the middle, trying to rekindle sexual superpowers
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| Crushed under glass, life going past like a subway crowd
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| I want to live all I can live, all that I’m allowed
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| And if I recall anything at all, I’ll recall this filthy moon
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| Orange and lonely, hollow and holy, with a junky spoon
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| And if it should happen that we never meet again at least we had this week
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| We will recall this old hotel, this refreshing sleep
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| Lying alone 'til daylight arrives, the emptiness of night
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| All my doubts scuttling about and nothing ever feeling right
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| I want to live all I can live, all that life allows
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| Dragging the night into the light, through the quisling clouds
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| Mist in the valley, trains in the city, a hot day’s sudden showers
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| Slack at the middle, trying to rekindle sexual superpowers
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| Up on a mountain, always alone, there stands a cherry tree
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| Down in the city, always alone, there moves the ghost of me |