| From out of nothing, I see before me,
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| Restricted access to former glories,
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| Who turned the page and who wrote the book?
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| Who had to tell us that we had to look?
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| And I wonder was my head in he clouds?
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| Cos' I had it all and let it go,
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| Should I listen to the sound of the crowd I don’t know?
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| From out of nothing and set before me,
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| Some colour picture paintings, telling stories,
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| In black and white and shades of grey,
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| Who stole the pallette? |
| You don’t say you don’t want to say.
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| And I wonder was my head in he clouds?
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| Cos' I had it all and let it go,
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| Should I listen to the sound of the crowd I don’t know?
|
| And I wonder was my head in he clouds?
|
| Cos' I had it all and let it go,
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| Should I listen to the sound of the crowd I don’t know? |