| It’s a curious sound
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| bone collectors rustling leaves on their knees
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| Many poets in this town
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| Look high and low for feelings that come and go
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| Sweeping the past out of their windows and doors
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| Well I’m not so humble but I’m always on time
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| Believing what is left behind
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| all the shades and echoes of my life
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| are in my blood
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| In my blood… feelings are lasting
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| In my blood… they never go away
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| In my blood… end up in a place
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| Somewhere where you don’t have to miss it all
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| The flavour on my tongue,
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| In my blood… the fall of winter sun
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| In my blood… the sparkle in your eyes
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| In my blood… the moment when I die
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| I’m hoping that I won’t have to miss it all
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| Reincarnate, how I wish that I could come back again,
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| How I wish that I could do this again
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| Melancholy beats my heart
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| Her cries mistaken for the sound of loneliness
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| There are far too many stars
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| On the earth there is but two of us
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| Gingerly down there for my hand is a thief
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| I’m bound to fumble when the moment is right
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| As another one is lost its a kind of release
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| And it’s coming to me with a sense of relief
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| In my blood… feelings are lasting
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| In my blood… they never go away
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| In my blood… end up in a place,
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| somewhere that you don’t have to miss it all
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| the flavour on my tongue,
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| In my blood… the fall of winter sun
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| In my blood… the sparkle in your eye,
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| In my blood… the moment when I die
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| I’m praying that I won’t have to miss it all
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| Reincarnate, how I wish that I could come back again
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| How I wish that I could do this again
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| Reincarnate, how I wish that I could come back again
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| How I wish that I could do this again
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| You’re in my blood, in my blood, in my blood. |