| August in hammersmith
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| You don’t know who you’re with
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| You’re waiting for the sun, my love
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| The season of sharp dust
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| Has gone as go it must
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| The season of monsoon
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| Will be upon us soon, my love
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| Both men were bombardiers
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| Pale sirens tongued their ears
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| You were the smoking gun
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| Concealed by everyone, my love
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| But until the seas roll back, i’ll be there
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| I’ll be there
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| And now the rain it flails
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| Red tiles and fuller’s ales
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| The caterpillars hang
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| From where the doorbell rang, my love
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| Down fulham palace road
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| The fleshy buds explode
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| And if you fall to deep
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| You’ll find me in your sleep, my love
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| But until the seas roll back, i’ll be there
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| I’ll be there
|
| Yes, until the seas roll back, i’ll be there
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| The sea is in your blood
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| And if the street should flood
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| Engorged by silver rains
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| The scent of you remains, my love
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| And in the top floor flat
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| He comes, he strokes your cat
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| You left the window wide
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| A flat leaf wafts inside, my love
|
| But until the seas roll back, i’ll be there
|
| I’ll be there
|
| Yes, until the seas roll back, i’ll be there
|
| August in hammersmith
|
| You don’t know who you’re with
|
| You’re waiting for the sun
|
| You wait like everyone, my love
|
| My love
|
| My love
|
| (la la la la la la la W6)
|
| (la la la la la la la W6)
|
| (la la la la la la la W6)
|
| (la la la la la la la W6)
|
| (la la la la la la la W6) |