| This town…
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| This stain on the sunrise
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| disguised in the mist,
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| This morning…
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| Its 8 AM,
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| A seagull shouts
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| a sailors warning,
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| This sky…
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| This bend in the river
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| Slows down and delivers me
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| The tide rolls back
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| And all my memories fade to black.
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| And yet,
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| And yet
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| Im back!
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| This town has a strange magnetic pull,
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| Like a homing signal in your skull,
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| And you sail by the stars of the hemisphere,
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| Wondering how in the hell did you end up here?
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| Its like an underground river or a hidden stream
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| That flows through your head and haunts your dreams,
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| And you stuffed those dreams in this canvas sack
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| And theres nothing round here that the wide world lacks.
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| And yet,
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| And yet
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| Youre back!
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| Some night Id lie on the deck and Id stare
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| At the turning of the stars,
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| Those constellations hanging up there
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| From the cables and the rigging
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| I wonder if she saw the same or managed to recall my name
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| Why would she ever think of me, some boy she loved who fled to sea?
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| And why waste time debating
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| Whether shed be waiting for the likes of me?
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| So you drift into port with the scum of the seas
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| To the dance halls and the brothels where you took your ease!
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| And the ships left the dock, but youre half past caring, And you havent got a
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| clue whose bed youre sharing.
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| And your heads like a hammer on a bulkhead door
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| And it feels like somebody might have broken your jaw
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| And theres bloodstains and glass all over the floor
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| And you swear to God yell drink no more.
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| And yet,
|
| And yet
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| In truth
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| Its too late to find her
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| Too late to remind her
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| at some garden gate
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| Where a servant tells me I should wait
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| And perhaps a doors slammed in my face
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| My head must be in outer space,
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| And yet,
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| And yet…
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| Before the sun has set
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| Before the sea
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| There maybe something else
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| Thats waiting for the likes of me!
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| This town…
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| This stain on the sunrise… |