| A baby, young and sweet
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| A Maharashtra night, a city street
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| And I feel low
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| Hear her crying in her sleep
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| A blanket of newspaper sheets
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| By my window
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| There’s no worse sound that I could hear
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| Or hope of life that I fear she’ll never know
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| Oh those Bombay Blues
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| And the harder you push her away
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| The sooner your heart turns a darker shade of grey
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| But the more you allow her in
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| The longer she’ll live beneath the surface of your skin
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| Oh and now that I can see
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| How love becomes the enemy
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| They say there’s nothing you can do
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| But that’s what they want you to believe
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| Full moon party on the beach
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| Burning holy effigies on Summer sands
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| Temporarily mend the holes
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| In your chimerical soul
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| In a mystic land
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| But all the beautiful things that you love
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| Will one day turn into the things that you despise
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| 'Cuz the darkness lives within
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| And the more that you hide it
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| The darker it stains your skin
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| Oh and now that I can see
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| How love becomes a memory
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| And you say there’s nothing I can do
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| If that’s what you wanna believe
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| Oh and now that I can see
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| How love becomes the enemy
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| You say there’s nothing I can do
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| If that’s what you wanna believe
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| There’s clearly nothing I can say
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| That will make her go away
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| Don’t say there’s nothing I can do
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| If that’s what you wanna believe |