| In comes the night
|
| She’s streaming through your window
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| Searching with her light
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| For the head upon your pillow
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| She is only waiting
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| For you to let her in your mellow head
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| Less black than white
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| More milky grey and fibrous
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| The mind must be a demon thing
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| To make you search the past
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| And the skull is an old thing
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| Dug up in the dirt in the night
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| And it’s moonlight who knows you when you’re lonely
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| And it’s moonlight who knows just where to find me
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| Up drunk smooth and tight
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| In your noble degradation
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| Dreaming through a window
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| Sifting through aberrations
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| Romancing the drunken poet
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| Who sparks your imagination in the night
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| And it’s moonlight who knows you when you’re lonly
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| And it’s moonlight who knows just where to find me
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| Ah, it’s moonlight who knows you whn you’re lonely
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| Yeah, it’s moonlight who knows just where to find me
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| In the night |