| Dawn he’s in a postcard of the dawn
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| Where the knives of light
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| Have left the dark night tattered & torn
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| The firmamental cars
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| On the highway of the stars are doing ninety
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| (for your love) — He’s in a corner on the right
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| The sole survivor of the night —
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| & it’s you he’s thinking of
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| And you, you only think of him
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| Dropping him a line 'cos he’s got no time to swim
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| They’re closing all the doors to his existential shores
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| — they'll leave him naked & alone
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| — & you can’t help him now, he’s in the waters of the south
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| — sinking like a stone…
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| Running form the snapping jaws
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| You knows he ain’t got time to pause
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| — there's one last door between him & you
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| — look out babe, he’ll be coming through
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| (as soon as you admit that you’re the cause)
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| Gone, with a squad of crooked creatures —
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| You saw a film of his escape
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| But you hardly recognized his features
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| His seer’s sight had lied about the other side
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| No one was waiting when you arrived
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| You dared not hesitate — even so, you got there late —
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| Who takes who for one last ride? |