| Sometimes I wonder how I got mixed up with you
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| You just cannot comprehend the things that I do
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| The truth is so fragile, the ties are so true
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| Lying in the nettles where the blossoms once grew
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| So now you’re asking what is this mystery
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| And all these questions, ancient history
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| Sometimes I wonder what is left to be said
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| If I’m consumed and fading will the children be fed?
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| The roof is always creaking, the stone has been bled
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| You say I’m just existing and you leave me for dead
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| Sometimes I can see your love is a sled
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| Sliding down the slopes that will lead to your bed
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| Some of us are white, some of us are red
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| Some have got these visions going 'round in our heads
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| As you go just blow a kiss to me
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| And as it falls, ancient history
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| Sometimes a joke can get out of hand
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| Laughing like a conqueror in a new land
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| Convinced down to his buttons this was how it was planned
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| Turns his back on ruins, that was nothing but sand
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| Crossing your Alps the ice and cold blister me
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| And all the rest, ancient history |