| Five whole months in love we lay
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| beneath the Hebrides, on the bay,
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| That was what i was thinking of
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| But i’m still adverse to love
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| When you see yourself die on a flickering screen,
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| On a shit TV,
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| You must’ve missed the scene.
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| This show’s no fun anymore,
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| Turn on the fan open the door
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| It’s thirty-two degrees at night
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| It’s too fucking hot to fight
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| If you saw yourself dying in a movie, a Hollywood movie…
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| Is it heavy in your chest when the fire’s just a line?
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| And you know that you should sigh,
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| but you’re a satellite
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| Even Hollywood seems tired
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| And sighing it’s allright
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| you’re a satellite
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| Grit a teeth and squeeze a tear,
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| But the sounds all dissapear,
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| So you get another beer.
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| But even the bottles have gone dry
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| so you sigh and you stare,
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| And you think of Steve and Ash and Claire, at home
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| On Barnett street.
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| Suddenly everyone’s looking to the left with their hands on their mouth and
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| chest.
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| Emily lives there, she might die
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| But i don’t care cos i’m high
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| Well, show me you levitate, and i’ll give you umm…
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| Is it heavy in your chest when the fire’s just a line?
|
| And you know that you should sigh
|
| But you’re a satellite
|
| Even Hollywood seems tired
|
| And sighing is allright
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| you’re a satellite |