| In the sour you look beautiful when you’re down
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| In the street where the fierce they talk talk talk
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| And the looks, and the looks, they reveal in your sleep
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| In your bed, in your poverty
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| Say, you could be the captain of my ship
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| We would sail, we would fail, we would sink
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| In time to be like drunk gods fighting the sea
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| You could run, yeah, let’s run!
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| Our captain’s broken with water in his solid legs
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| Still waiting for real ends, not a broken toy
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| A restless word on a toilet wall in an empty mall
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| And every kid escaping from the sentence is afraid of the dark
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| In the trees all my friends they gather their things
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| All along with their family awaiting the sea
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| You could hide your eyes, you could always dream
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| You could dance, yeah, let’s dance!
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| And leave the captain, as he goes down with his battleship
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| The cannons are flying breaking everything
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| We’ve reached a dead end the people are afraid
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| 'Cause every man escaping from the real is a coward and a prick
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| Their spines are torn apart from the rock beneath the sea
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| Late in the night when you’re awoken from your sleep
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| And everything is violently taking you by suprise screaming
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| «It wasn’t me; |
| I’m just a simple, beautiful machine»
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| But the silence never answers and your turn your metal body back to sleep |