| There are voices by my pillow, they remind me when to rise
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| And they tell me if my morning’s under grey or sunny skies
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| And then they dedicate a record, «Our Love Will Never Die»,
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| By a group that’s been disbanded,
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| Though it’s seldom mentioned why
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| But they say that there’s a chip in every part
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| Of the state of the heart
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| Answering an ancient invitation
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| When’s the proper time for us to go?
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| Turning from our separate destinations
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| Now we say goodbye, and now we say hello
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| But there are signs out on the highway, writing on the walls
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| Hungry eyes and always with a drifting dreamer falls
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| And we can watch it on our TV’s, there’s a dish out on the lawn
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| And we wonder where the valley of reality has gone
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| When they say they’ve got a tape on every part
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| Of the state of the heart. |