| Pray for my poor melancholy soul
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| I’ve cried so many tears inside my head’s a goldfish bowl
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| A mood so deep, so far above you all
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| With no one there to catch me if I fall
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| This is your man in the street reporting
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| And so far all we’ve got
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| Is that a regular guy is on a ledge up high
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| He’s had enough of an irregular lot
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| And in a World Exclusive Live tonight
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| Brought to you via satellite
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| The last sane man heard frankly speaking
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| 'bout the «ups and downs» of leaping
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| He says…
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| I’m lighter than air
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| I haven’t a care
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| Still gravity pulls me under
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| Credibility gaps
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| Gullibility fills
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| They were bringing me down, no wonder
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| Square pegs, round holes
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| Last dregs, own goals
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| Monkey puzzle, my fist won’t fit inside
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| Every day nothing new
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| Black-and-white deja-vu
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| Makes me feel I wanna spread my wings and glide
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| Should I look, should I leap from this unfairy story?
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| My life and my filofax flashing before me
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| Fly like a rock from the roof to the basement
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| The last thing to go through my mind was the pavement
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| Falling out of love with life…
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| Here’s the latest news flash update
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| On the Wall Street situation
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| Seems he wants to have his song played
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| Live upon our TV station
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| It’s a lyric he just wrote
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| The bleatings of a social scapegoat
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| Thirty years under the weather
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| At the end of a short tether
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| It goes…
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| I’m lighter than air
|
| I haven’t a care
|
| Still gravity pulls me under
|
| Credibility gaps
|
| Gullibility fills
|
| They were bringing me down, no wonder
|
| Square pegs, round holes
|
| Last dregs, own goals
|
| Monkey puzzle, my fist won’t fit inside
|
| Every day nothing new
|
| Black-and-white deja-vu
|
| Makes me feel I wanna spread my wings and glide |