| Well, you say it’s such a small, small world
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| flying Club Class back from the far-east
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| curled up safe and warm in the big chair
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| you were drifting through the skies of anywhere
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| Get the courtesy car to the Sheraton
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| there’s live on-the-spot reports on the CNN between the ad-breaks
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| so you think you know what’s going on — but you don’t
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| because you weren’t in Belfast, no you weren’t there
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| and no you weren’t in Waco, no you weren’t there
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| and you weren’t in Kosovo, you weren’t there
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| and you weren’t in my head so you don’t know how it felt
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| walking arm in arm with crowds to the square
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| and the banners waving and the sun glinting
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| All this information swims round and round
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| like a shoal of fish in a tank going nowhere
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| Up and down between the glass walls
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| You’re so safe in the knowledge they’re impenetrable
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| and you look out at the world and see nothing at all
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| so go back to sleep and you’ll be woken when the time comes
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| and you’ll never know just what hit you or where it came from
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| because you weren’t in Bradford, no you weren’t there
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| and you weren’t on the hill, no you weren’t there
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| and you weren’t with us so you never saw
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| just what happened when the television crews came knocking on the door
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| how the people told them all to go to Hell,
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| smashed the cameras and sent them away
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| There were sirens going off and policemen coming in and all that you love was being swept away
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| in the rush of a black tide all done in your name
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| and you’ll never know just what happened there
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| or how it feels — just how it feels. |
| .. |