| Into day
|
| Into I don’t know you anymore
|
| But I stand
|
| Where you say
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| Thinking all the time you planned it
|
| You’ve been gone away too long
|
| Leaving us to carry on
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| Though in truth you never tried
|
| Just stepped back and watched the slide
|
| Paragons of innocence
|
| Questioning of your intent
|
| Never quite sure what you meant
|
| From the other side
|
| Moments on the carousel
|
| Must admit we ride it well
|
| And the horses never tell
|
| All throughout the ride
|
| That no one leaves
|
| No one leaves
|
| No one leaves…
|
| Alive
|
| Time
|
| On my hands
|
| Slips away
|
| Till I just don’t feel it anymore
|
| Thinking back
|
| When I can
|
| To the time when it began with
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| Bits of dreams all in a line
|
| And somehow we missed the signs
|
| That it all was never real
|
| And in truth a fatal deal
|
| Paragons of innocence
|
| Questioning of your intent
|
| Never quite sure what you meant
|
| From the other side
|
| Moments on the carousel
|
| Must admit we ride it well
|
| And the horses never tell
|
| All throughout the ride
|
| No one leaves
|
| No one leaves
|
| No one leaves…
|
| Alive
|
| There always comes a time
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| When you do what you want to do
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| You know you shouldn’t do it
|
| But you do it anyway
|
| And when he had that time
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| When he knew what he wanted to
|
| He quickly placed his order
|
| Though he never thought he’d pay
|
| But the lines turned to lies
|
| And the lies turned to tangles
|
| And you’re pale as a cadaver
|
| Though you think it doesn’t show
|
| So you live with the lies
|
| And the friends that it gathers
|
| But somewhere in your heart you know you
|
| Got to let it
|
| Got to let it
|
| Go
|
| Paragons of innocence
|
| Questioning of your intent
|
| Never quite sure what you meant
|
| From the other side
|
| Moments on the carousel
|
| Must admit we ride it well
|
| And the horses never tell
|
| All throughout the ride
|
| No one leaves
|
| No one leaves
|
| No one leaves…
|
| Alive
|
| Then the sailor picked a coat up
|
| That had been laying there
|
| And placed it over the body
|
| And then he said a little prayer
|
| And the ocean brought in on a wave
|
| An old waterlogged wreath
|
| And pushed it up along the sand
|
| Till it touched the dead man’s feet
|
| And written on that wreath
|
| In letters of gold foil
|
| Was the name veronica guerin
|
| But the letters were bent and soiled
|
| The sailor said I see these flowers
|
| That you so kindly gave
|
| Are obviously from far away
|
| And from another’s grave
|
| And I cannot help but to think
|
| The sailor gently said
|
| That it’s unwise in god eyes
|
| To steal flowers from the dead
|
| The ocean said please trust me friend
|
| This gift will cause no pain
|
| And the person to whom they once belonged
|
| Would surely say the same
|
| You see this wreath was from the funeral
|
| Of a woman who showed no fear
|
| Of men who lived in mansions
|
| Bought with other people’s tears
|
| Of men who lived in mansions
|
| Bought with bits of others lives
|
| Who at night still hugged their children
|
| And brought gifts home to their wives
|
| With money made from heroin
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| And packets of cocaine
|
| And if a buyer overdosed
|
| They never felt the pain
|
| There were many flowers at her funeral
|
| But none for this boy I fear
|
| So the wind has blown this wreath to me
|
| And I have brought it here
|
| She gave her life to stop the spread
|
| Of drugs among her kind
|
| And if we leave these flowers for this boy
|
| I’m sure she wouldn’t mind |