| A catalogue of ill gotten forgoteries
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| Knocking at your door at nine
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| Tumbling down like sand castles
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| Your eiderdown
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| Slipping off your skin and mine
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| But something strikes
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| At my window one night
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| I awake imagining you
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| Standing out on the beach
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| With a pocket torch and a lock of hair
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| And not knowing what to do
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| There are plenty of boys in the sea
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| But none of them love you like me
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| We’ll never argue, we’ll never sigh
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| If I never see you
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| We can’t say goodbye
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| The streets all muscle in with hunger
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| For the nights I should’ve slept with you
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| You didn’t answer the phone
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| I drove across town through dusk
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| Cathedrals, museum and school
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| But by the time I arrived
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| Your room looked like you’d gone away
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| And were sure never to return
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| A pile of magazines
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| My letters under coffee cups
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| Unanswered and unconcerned |