| When the phone rang, 3 in the morning, dead middle of night
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| There was nuthin on the line
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| I set back the silent receiver
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| Tiny flames lit in my head
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| Hey did any of you freaks here ever remember lenny?
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| I cant remember his last name
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| Hes turned to dust now, one of the chosen few
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| Left out in the rain, out of town again
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| Left out in the rain, ocean bound I guess
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| Between the mattress and a column of hazy faces
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| I remember every word you said
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| Quite a clear picture: evry word you said
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| The door was open but the way was not lit
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| And there was no way out of my head
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| On a crimson hiway by a chrome bumper I last saw you:
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| Alive
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| Inclined to thrive
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| Evening fireflies lit sparks around yr head
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| But wait a minute lets back up a bit:
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| Some famous stars were busted down on fashion avenue
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| Impersonating real men
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| Not knowing who they really were
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| Now here at dark corners all is calm and quiet and good
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| The kids are up late dreaming quiet questions in a graceful mood:
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| Can you please pass me a jug of winter light?
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| Fold me in an oceans whim?
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| In sweet corrosive fire light?
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| In the city made of tin?
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| Are you famous under the skin?
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| Familiar with the things you wanted?
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| Able now to take it all in?
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| Making peace w every hole in the story?
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| Did lightning keep you up all night?
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| Illuminate the soot and grit?
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| Can you tell how high the sky tonight?
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| Dig out from under in spite of it?
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| Can you cover up the one that floats?
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| Push back the hours?
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| I hear yr voice, I speak yr name
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| Among nyc ghosts and flowers
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| Will we meet? |
| to run again?
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| Thru nyc ghosts and flowers |