| I give thanks again that long nights, though they’re lonely
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| They’re lit by stars, that end with suns that climb
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| And the moon will back me up on this, just look up
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| «But the moon won’t take you out to wine and dine»
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| Oh I know, but there her hand is on my shoulder
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| «But every evening, we still hear you whine and whine!»
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| I know, I know but, like a sibling, I neglect her
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| But we have no choice, I’m hers and she is mine
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| And she is yours, and you are hers, and we’re each other’s
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| «Oh shut up Phil, you’re just shouting empty rhymes!»
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| I know
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| The world’s alone
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| This light’s on loan until we have grown
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| Old enough to pay it back with our gruesome rotting
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| And our lives, they’re just long saggings of the spine
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| So here I sit, hunched over my candle in the black night
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| «Thanksgiving», here I hug my sorrow tight |