| Look at the awaked he returns
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| On his rocking boat, reaches the shore
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| Slowly everything comes together
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| And the thread becomes thinner
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| A delicate spider web
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| Which would spin dreams
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| But now a little movement
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| And it’s complete, torn apart, the end
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| Now that my boat has left me here
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| I look where I am sleepy
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| There’s a chair front of the bed
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| Beyond the windows, rooftops
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| The sunlight plows on my face
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| A radio is on, I’m listening
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| Then I rise up
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| My steps are driven by habit
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| I’m stepping forward
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| Already walking outside
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| Vanished dreams farewell
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| Good morning people!
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| The light waits outside
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| New hopes invite
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| Drives me that I can overcome
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| Good morning people!
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| Cylinders with roaring endless blare
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| Clanking constantly, night and day
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| What could it be? |
| They call it miracle mill
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| I believe I know its secret well
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| Do you know what matters in the mill?
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| The cylinders that break the whole into pieces
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| How many times I’ve tried
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| Still it was stronger than I was
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| But tomorrow I would start again
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| Rushing through a meadow with flower scent
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| Once upon a time I lived so happily
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| On my way I got to the miracle mill
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| Something sad happened to me here
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| Do you know what matters at the mill?
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| The cylinders that break the whole into pieces
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| How many times I’ve tried
|
| Still it was stronger than I was
|
| But tomorrow I would start again
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| Cylinders with roaring endless blare
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| Clanking, I can hear night and day
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| I can go whether to north or south
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| They live in miracle mill alike
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| Don’t forget what matters in the mill
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| The cylinders that break the whole into pieces
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| How many times I’ve tried
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| Still it was stronger than I was
|
| But tomorrow I would start again
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| It’s evening, lamp gleams on the street
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| Above the sky extinguished
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| The house retired to rest
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| Only the landlord is awake
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| So people wonder about that
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| Tired, sleepy
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| At home would be nice by now
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| Outside the night is so deserted
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| The gray walls of houses are dreaming
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| Marvelous, silvery dreams
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| The silence escorts us
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| It runs far than returns
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| All things snuggle up
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| Houses, trees
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| The world sleeps, perhaps even sees a dream
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| Than let us go on quietly
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| On this morning the world is different somehow
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| Wobbles the trolley, bored of being empty
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| Harsh alarm clocks don’t make a sound
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| I can even lie until noontime
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| Some get on he bus, ride out beyond the city
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| Some in cars, on motor cycles speed wildly
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| Some repairs them until the evening
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| Yet they will not start
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| Some dig a hole, build up walls alone
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| Some loose money, some sink into bathtub
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| Many listen to the news
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| A gentleman upstairs plays the violin
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| The girl spoke cuddling up next me
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| It is late already my dear
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| Tomorrow again work waits for us
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| I need to go now I believe
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| I spoke also while holding her
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| It’s so nice when you’re here my dear
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| No day or hour matters much
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| Hold me more my love
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| Some are restless and start searching for themselves
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| Some understand nothing, to them the world isn’t despair
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| The city falls into dream
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| Tomorrow everything will carry on |