| When I saw you on the market, standing by the phone
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| With your hair as dark as this, how could you be alone
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| All the ghosts in love with you, they craned their sorry necks
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| Like a Viennese machine that’s just discovered sex
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| When I saw you on the bridge, you had to look away
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| If I thought to follow you, I’d just get in the way
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| Reaching for eternity, reaching for a chair
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| Reaching for the woman who is never even there, boys
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| Never even there
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| When I saw your fingers folded round your albatross
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| Staring through the kitchen wall at everything you’ve lost
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| Losing comes so easily when you acquire the taste
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| Life is long and life is lost and life is such a waste, boys
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| Life is just a waste
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| See the wrinkles in my hand, I am the lizard’s son
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| Waiting for the alchemist to touch me with the sun
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| When I saw your photograph, I knew we’d never meet
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| You were called Idonia, and I stayed in the street, boys
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| I stayed in the street
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| When I saw your eyes were closed, that was the best thing yet
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| Then you drove a caravan across this flimsy set
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| Crushed beneath your wheels still, my heart goes beating on
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| Beating for Idonia and everything she’s done, boy
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| Everything she’s done
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| When I saw your pharaoh coming, handsome gypsy lad
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| With his memory still wet from all the fun he had
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| Funny how your ceiling is somebody else’s floor
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| Feeling for Idonia beside a market store, boys
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| Who won’t be back no more |