| Breezy Sunday afternoon
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| I was strolling along the sidewalk strips
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| Down on Seventh Avenue
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| A stranger asked me for direction
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| I said, «I don’t have a clue
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| I swear, I’m just as lost as you»
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| (You belong)
|
| We spend a whole life’s year looking for direction
|
| (You belong)
|
| And we always end up right where we’ve begun
|
| (You belong)
|
| We spend a whole life’s year looking for direction
|
| (You belong)
|
| And we always end up right where we’ve begun
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| An old man is standing by the bistro
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| With a coffee in his hand
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| And his cigarette’s half burnt out
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| And his eyes are sunken in
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| Recollection of my father’s ghost
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| I knew him well, now he’s just a silhouette
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| (You belong)
|
| We spend a whole life’s year looking for direction
|
| (You belong)
|
| And we always end up right where we’ve begun
|
| (You belong)
|
| We spend a whole life’s year looking for direction
|
| (You belong)
|
| And we always end up right where we’ve belong
|
| You’ve got the sun on your face, shining like a smile
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| Brighter than the melody of any song we sing
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| Never give in, keep pressing on, gotta believe in better days
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| Premonitions of the irony we always seem to crave
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| And you belong
|
| And you belong
|
| (You belong)
|
| We spend a whole life’s year looking for direction
|
| (You belong)
|
| And we always end up right where we’ve begun
|
| (You belong)
|
| We spend a whole life’s year looking for direction
|
| (You belong)
|
| And we always end up right where we’ve begun |