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Passenger plane, cross-continental. |
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Just can't fly to save my life. |
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And all I can say, |
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I'm half in the bottle, |
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Your look still cuts me like a knife. |
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But don't call it in, |
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The day may be done, |
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Swear that the lamp's been broken, |
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But still there's a light. |
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Adrift in this state, |
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I'm damned to wander |
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Tracing circles in the dust. |
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And hours of late, |
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I have to wonder, |
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Does water cleanse the desert rust? |
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Don't call in it, |
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The day may be done, |
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Swear that the lamp's been broken, |
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But still there's a light. |
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These aren't important things, |
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They're just my possessions. |
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They don't mean anything, |
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You can have them. |
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But don't call it in, |
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The day may be done, |
|
Swear that the lamp's been broken, |
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But still there's a light. |
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Still there's a light, |
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Still there's a light. |