| I feel the magic that our time has traced,
|
| And make a point of it in every place.
|
| But every place deserves a curse or two,
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| For making me so far away from you.
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| I saw some pictures of the world at war,
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| I couldnt suss what all the fuss was for,
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| I wear a picture of you wearing black,
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| And kissing me behind the butlers back.
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| Sometimes I get down,
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| But its not you that gets me down,
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| Its just the sense of the impossible,
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| Gratuitously handed down.
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| But oh no, not you, dont wipe your eyes over lies,
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| Just let them shine their blue,
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| On every whisper that welcomes the inconceivable,
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| And the birth of the true.
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| Id sack the world and make a second start,
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| Id sack my head until I found my heart,
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| Id fill the distance with a red parade,
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| And burn the banks down while the bugles played.
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| Sometimes I get down,
|
| But its not you that gets me down,
|
| Its just the sense of the impossible,
|
| Gratuitously handed down. |