| Vagrant suspicious and quite out of breath
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| Stumbles into a town where the people wear frowns
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| Picks up a paper, the pages are blank
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| They say «No news today, no more writers around»
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| What price hope over adversity
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| Cause to applaud this perversity
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| I’m still deaf from the hydroplanes
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| Blessed with a cynical gaze…
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| No words in our own defence
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| Independence our recompense
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| Fate casting a finer line
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| To pity or to pay
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| These rapids we’re rolling on
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| Seem calm when they’re good and gone
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| Love, as good as the house it warms
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| A million miles between us
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| Still we’re heading the same way…
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| I sing this song with my tongue in my cheek
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| For the jilted, the jaundiced, the angry young men
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| Who somehow believe that the status quo changes
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| With juvenile slogans in downmarket rags
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| What price hope over adversity
|
| Cause to applaud this perversity
|
| I’m still deaf from the hydroplanes
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| Blessed with a cynical gaze… |