| Sunday morning, eight am
|
| The air is clean, I’m walking back with friends
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| Towards wherever
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| I call home
|
| City has passed, and the faces change
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| But in a way I’ve never left this place
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| And all my streets
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| Were really one
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| It was along this road
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| I met everyone I know
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| It’s where all the lost go home
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| Bohemia road
|
| Yeah, I know this road
|
| It will never let me go
|
| And it’s all I’ll ever know
|
| Bohemia road
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| Glistening bottle, broken chair
|
| The pictures on, the wall return my stare
|
| And all my rooms
|
| Were really one
|
| The window looks at many scenes
|
| Inside the room, the ceiling shows a dream
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| Of what I’ll do when
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| I move on
|
| It was along this road
|
| I met everyone I know
|
| It’s where all the lost go home
|
| Bohemia road
|
| Yeah, I know this road
|
| It will never let me go
|
| And it’s all I’ll ever know
|
| Bohemia road! |
| (Bohemia road!)
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| You’ll find me where it all just
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| Slips by
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| You’ll find me where the time runs
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| Down the wall
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| You’ll find me where the drinks never
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| Run dry
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| You’ll find me where you smile and
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| Lose it all, lose it all
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| All forgotten futures are calling
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| On Bohemia road
|
| All forgotten futures are calling
|
| On Bohemia road
|
| All forgotten futures are calling
|
| On Bohemia road
|
| All forgotten futures are calling
|
| On Bohemia road
|
| It seems like yesterday is really not that far away
|
| I’ll get there if I think about it
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| I feel like yesterday is really just a step away
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| I’ll get there if I think about it
|
| I’ll get there if I think about it
|
| I’ll get there if I think about it |