| Maybe you think, a lot like me
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| Of those who live beside the sea
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| Who feel so free, so I surmise
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| With their comfortable homes, and wives
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| Who end up drinking tea together
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| In the afternoon of their lives
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| They build their homes upon the seashore
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| The quicksand castles of their dreams
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| Yet take no notice of the North wind
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| Which tears their building at the seams
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| In their dismay and blind confusion
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| The weeping widows clutch their shawls
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| While as the sea mist ever deepens
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| The sailors hear the sirens' calls
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| And in the maelstrom sea which follows
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| The lifeboat sinks without a trace
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| And yet there still remain survivors
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| To bear the shame of their disgrace
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| Last night I lay in bed
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| And held myself
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| Trying to remember
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| How it once was with you
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| How your hands were softer
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| Yesterday I found myself
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| Staring into space
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| Rather like the sailor
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| In my own home surroundings
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| I’m not sure I know me
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| If you were me what would you do
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| Don’t tell me I don’t need you to
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| It won’t help me now |