| I liked the life of window walking
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| Night drinking 'til a morning crow greets
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| A peaceful stroll in Shibuya’s golden hour
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| Communication has gotten so much
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| Easier with inventions by web men
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| There’s so much more fun to be made
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| Yet I can’t help but think
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| Tokyo lights don’t seem quite like they used to
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| And the moon is a different shade
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| And all the colours have changed
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| Even if appearing the same
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| And I am lost in the crossroads
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| And I am lesser in love, and in love
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| But as I stare up at all these
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| Winding lights and whirls
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| There be a flower being in the midst and
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| There be a shower of hope upon my being!
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| But I just remind myself and I must be clear
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| And obey my words in which wisdom is found:
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| Don’t forget to smile
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| Too many moons have passed without such joy
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| Don’t forget to smile
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| Madly into the incoming traffic
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| Don’t forget to smile
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| Madly at every eye that wanders by
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| Waving my hand all but a sudden gust of
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| Wind passes my face
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| And I am uplifted within and now we are
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| Looming over a lake of low fog and a
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| Bright figure slowly hovers above the mist
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| She had found the fairest light
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| And she be smiling right into me
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| And I smile back effortlessly
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| Then she be a shadow
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| She disappears into the footstep din
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| And my boat is empty
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| But look!
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| She be standing there by the window
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| And glances back
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| Maybe we can find that river
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| Which flows towards the sea of ancient waves
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| And flower beings, beyond the weeping trees
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| So stood there on the crossroads
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| I tell myself again
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| Don’t let your boat be empty
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| Don’t be a sunken dream
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| Don’t let your boat regret thee
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| For what you could have seen |