| The city sleeps but we’re awake
|
| We spirit home before the break
|
| Of dawn upon the streets
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| In which we live and love and breathe
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| And half the high-rises have turned to dust
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| The Fairfields now are scrap and rust
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| The sirens sing, the west wind howls
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| What once was here was holy ground
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| Not now
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| And I confess that I’ve lately been a mess
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| So I wonder where you’ll sleep tonight
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| And decide it would be best
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| To stay out late and not come home
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| To wander Kelvingrove alone
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| I’m young enough to still believe
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| Some faded glory might just shelter me
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| And here is where my whole world turns
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| And here is where my heart returns
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| And here is where I’ve sworn and cursed
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| And here is where I kissed you first
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| In amber light shot through with rain
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| I swear I don’t intend to waste a syllable
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| Each word is blessed
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| The truth must blaze through every single breath
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| Unbending, stark
|
| A lit steeple against unending dark
|
| And someone sprayed this on the wall:
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| «I love it here»
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| I don’t at all
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| Do you live for the love you’ve found?
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| Some sad slow song to lay you down
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| And still your weary worried heart
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| Throw light upon your darkest dark
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| That unsung psalm burst into flame
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| That wild black night that calls your name
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| O river, take my bloodied bones
|
| The toll can have my heart to hold
|
| Do you live for the loves you’ve lost?
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| Do they linger in your thoughts?
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| And ever in your fitful sleeps
|
| (In your wild and dark imaginings)
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| Do you ever really dream of me?
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| And if you did what would that mean?
|
| O river, take my bloodied bones
|
| The toll can have my heart to hold
|
| Unbending, stark
|
| A lit steeple against unending dark
|
| O river, take my bloodied bones
|
| The toll can have my heart to hold |