| Quarter Moon,
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| On a city growing thick
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| With good advice that won’t stick.
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| From the ballrooms to the suburbs,
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| Abandoned mines
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| Atlantis may be rising but
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| We’re all out of time.
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| The colored lights
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| On the fire escape,
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| And bodies move behind drapes,
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| And the light isn’t even
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| And we’re safer in pairs.
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| We’re no match, for what is waiting
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| For each of us out there.
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| Whistle baby, while we walk.
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| Don’t say anything, do not talk.
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| The journey is over, it is time to exhale.
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| Wherever we were going, we’re already there.
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| So over the turnstyles,
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| Through the guard rails
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| And into Washington Square.
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| 'Cause no amount of nightmares,
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| Will ever compare
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| To the thought of only silence
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| In this ghost-filled air.
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| Whistle baby, while we walk.
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| Don’t say anything, do not talk.
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| The journey is over, it’s too late to prepare.
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| Why can’t you see that baby, we’re already there.
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| Here comes your silhouette,
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| More pillow talk.
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| Here comes the ticking of these clocks.
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| They say the quickest way to end
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| A war is just to lose.
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| Another chamber locks
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| And I already withdrew.
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| Here comes the booming,
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| In the hunger of each night.
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| Here comes the burden of might.
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| Now this day was not divinely
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| Made to leave you impressed.
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| We may become someone someday
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| But we haven’t yet.
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| Whistle baby, while we walk.
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| Don’t say anything, do not talk.
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| The journey is over, it is time to repair.
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| Whatever we were building… baby
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| We’re Already There.
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| We’re Already There.
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| We’re Already There.
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| We’re Already There. |