| We go to bed and you fall asleep, fall asleep, not me
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| We go to bed and I lie awake, lie awake and
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| Float out the window and down the street, over the bridge and
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| Into the village for a little break from me, meaning us
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| I float away and you disappear, disappear
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| Some pretty young villager takes my hand and leads me to more
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| Pretty young villagers forming a ring, forming a ring around
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| A bonfire built on a line in the sand between me and us
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| Am I lost, have I lost, have they thrown me on the fire
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| There to dance in the flames, far enough from you to wonder
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| If me still means us
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| She leads me to the end of the night, a boyfriend of hers is there
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| You’re on his arm, but our eyes don’t meet, our eyes don’t meet cos
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| We only have eyes for fueling the fire, being melted down and reformed
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| In the image of wilder things, wilder things than us
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| Are we lost, have we lost, have they thrown us on the fire
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| There to dance in the flames, far enough from one another
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| We fed them to the flames, but they’re just getting colder and colder
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| The boy’s at least half again as selfish, and the girl’s feeling a day
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| Older per hour
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| But there’s no help for them now
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| Because together looks good when you’re alone looks good
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| When you’re together
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| And it takes a village older and less inclined to say which is better to say
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| Which would be better |