| Times were changing
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| Eighteen years and fading
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| Ain’t a lot of time left to be a star
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| On an island
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| All alone and dying
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| Walk upon the water
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| But you won’t get far
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| Dreams and visions
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| Tied into decisions
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| Saw you on a postcard
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| From the other side
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| Hope and glitter
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| Never feeling bitter
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| Walk upon the water
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| Just to be your bride
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| Don’t tell me now
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| That there is nothing more
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| There is a how
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| Just like there is a door
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| And if there’s not to be another way
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| You tell me why
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| Why
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| Why
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| Stay and follow
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| If the words are hollow
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| Gotta' go along
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| Cause it’s all you got
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| Each day earn them
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| Turn around and burn them
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| Think your fitting in
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| But you hope you’re not
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| Neatly drowning
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| Every drink your downing
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| If you drink enough
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| You’ll forget the game
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| Each illusion
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| Wrapped in absolution
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| Live your life in weekends
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| But it’s not the same
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| Don’t tell me now
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| That there is nothing more
|
| There is a how
|
| Just like there is a door
|
| And if there’s not to be another way
|
| You tell me why
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| Why
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| Why
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| Why
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| AND AS HE STOOD THERE CURSING FATE
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| FOR MAKING LIFE SO HARD
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| IT SEEMED THAT FATE HAD LISTENED
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| FOR SHE DEALT ANOTHER CARD
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| FOR ARRIVING IN THE HARBOUR
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| SILHOUETTED AGAINST THE SKY
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| WAS A SHIP BOUND FOR AMERICA
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| AND HER NAME, «MAERSK DUBAI»
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| AND SO WHEN NO ONE ELSE WAS LOOKING
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| AND THE SHIP WAS SAFELY MOORED
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| HE WAITED FOR HIS MOMENT
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| THEN HE QUICKLY SNUCK ON BOARD
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| THEN HE FOUND HIMSELF A HIDING PLACE
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| BETWEEN TWO CRATES OF IRON WARE
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| AND AS FOR DISTANT AMERICA
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| IN HIS MIND HE WAS ALREADY THERE
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| BUT WHAT HE WAS UNAWARE OF
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| AS THEY SAILED AWAY FROM SHORE
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| WAS THAT THERE WERE OTHER STOWAWAYS
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| AND HE WAS ONE OF FOUR
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| AND MEANWHILE THE OLD SAILOR
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| HAD WALKED RIGHT PAST THAT PIER
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| WHILE STILL CONVERSING WITH THE OCEAN
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| ON THE STRENGTHS OF HIS IDEA
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| AND AS HE WALKED HE CAME UPON
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| A YOUTH HE THOUGHT ASLEEP
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| BUT THE OCEAN SAID THAT HE WAS NOT
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| AND BRUSHED A WAVE AGAINST HIS FEET
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| AND WHEN THE YOUNG MAN DIDN’T STIR
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| BUT LAY QUITE STILL INSTEAD
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| THE SAILOR TOOK A CLOSER LOOK
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| AND SAW THAT HE WAS DEAD
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| AND ALL AROUND THE BODY
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| WAS SOMETHING HE HAD NEVER SEEN
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| LITTLE CELLOPHANE PACKAGES
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| MARKED «BLACKJACK GUILLOTINE»
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| AND SO HE ASKED THE OCEAN
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| WHAT THESE STRANGE PACKETS WERE
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| AND SHE ANSWERED THEY HELD THE HEROIN
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| THAT IN HIS BLOOD THE YOUTH HAD STIRRED
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| AND IT IS CERTAINLY A SIGN
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| THAT THINGS HAVE GOTTEN OUT OF HAND
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| WHEN ONE CAN PURCHASE ONES OWN DEATH
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| AND CHOOSE IT BY THE BRAND |