| There is a spy on the moon who is spying on the earth
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| Taking note of everything we do
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| I heard him say he’s afraid
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| He says he’s pretty glad
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| That we’re down here and he’s up on the moon
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| And he sees circles in circles and spirals spinning round
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| The earth is flying up or falling down
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| And lovers walk on the shore leaving footprints on the sand
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| Their eyes are green or blue their eyes are brown
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| There is a hole in the sky where the love is going away
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| The love is going away for ever more
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| There is a bump in the road and a creeper on the stair
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| And somebody is knocking at the door
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| There is a queue on the street and an office full of chairs
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| And people having fantasies in cars
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| There is a bed in the garden, the moon is shining down
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| On drunkards drinking Guinesses in bars
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| Twenty filter tips at the motorway garage
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| The sky behind the petrol pumps is green
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| There is a bunk in the shed where a man is lying dead
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| Murdered by the things he’ll never be |