| I see in your eyes that they don’t refuse
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| And I see in those same eyes a huge reflection
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| Of whatever the back-drop sees
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| And you’ll wipe it good and you’ll wipe it clean
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| And say, «I'll see you in the death machine tomorrow
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| Unless somebody’s god intervenes.»
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| And I’ll see you there but you sure won’t see me
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| I see in your eyes that they look over
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| To bluer sky and greener clover
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| But you’re only allowed to see through me
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| And I walk home and I try to sleep
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| But it’s quiet in the death machine this evening
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| Since I left the pub with the key
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| And I’d give it you back but you’d only foot the bill on me
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| And so the tiller man will take hold
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| The shady bastards will come to make you bleed
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| And you’ll wipe it good and you’ll wipe it clean
|
| And say, «I'll see you in the death machine tomorrow
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| Unless somebody’s god intervenes.»
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| And the day will come and it’ll make no difference to me |