| I was walking by the water
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| My heart full aching sore
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| The seagulls of Seattle
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| Wheeled above the shore
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| I stepped inside a tavern
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| For oyster chowder and brown ale
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| The hidden sun was sinking
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| Behind the distant sails
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| And in my mind dear memories
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| Like rolling waves unfurled
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| All the water places
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| I’ve been to with you, girl
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| The north-west by the Pindan
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| The salty, heavy sea
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| The days we laid on Cable Beach
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| And read beneath the tree
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| To the sandhills all deserted
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| Hand in hand we stole away
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| And there inside a shady glade
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| We made a bed to lay
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| Hot, sweet days in southern Spain
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| Fish and rice and wine
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| Swimming in deep water
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| Then later on entwined
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| I was covering the waterfront
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| Like John Lee in Days of Yore
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| The seagulls of Seattle
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| Wheeled and made their caw
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| I climbed a metal staircase
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| Searching for a better view
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| Puget Sound below me
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| Grey, not really blue
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| And looking west I raised you up
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| All sleepy from your bed
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| You were putting on the coffee pot
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| Brushing bad dreams from your head
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| I turned, then, from the harbor
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| And wheeled back into town
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| To meet my boon companions
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| And join with them in sound
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| Upon the lonely stage, I trod
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| The room all dark and dim
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| And every song I sang that night
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| To my love was a hymn
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| I was walking by the water
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| Wondering what I was there for
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| The seagulls of Seattle
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| Were calling, evermore |