| Turn and the world turns on, we’re riding out with the dawn
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| All fixed up once again like a thousand times before
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| Beneath the blessed sun and the coming day
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| And the years don’t change a thing — the rush remains the same
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| And I feel like a knife, these days are calling
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| I feel like a knife, sharpened like steel
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| Touched by the hand of the gods on these golden mornings
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| I feel like a knife for you
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| Stopped on the way down to the sea on the wide and lonely roads
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| The scent of summer nights and the warm fever of dreams
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| Beneath the falling stars, with the music loud
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| We’re dancing spinning round in the wild cascading lights
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| And I feel like a knife…
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| These days to remember where it was that we came from
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| What was it that we wanted before all the changes
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| And the hardest part is choosing and watching all the doors closing
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| No turning back, no turning back
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| Well the years and the miles don’t change a thing
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| The blood remains the same
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| It’s a dream in a dream in a dream in a dream
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| With the darkness rushing by again
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| And I feel like a knife… |