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I was driving across the burning desert when |
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I spotted six jet planes |
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Leaving six white vapor trails across the bleak terrain |
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It was the hexagram of the heavens, it was the strings of my guitar |
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Amelia, it was just a false alarm |
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The drone of flying engines is a song so wild and blue |
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It scrambles time and seasons if it gets through to you |
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Then your life becomes a travelogue of picture-post-card-charms |
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Oh Amelia, it was just a false alarm |
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People will tell you where they've gone they'll tell you where to go |
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But till you get there yourself you never really know |
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Where some have found their paradise other's just come to harm |
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Oh Amelia, it was just a false alarm |
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I wish that he was here tonight it's so hard to obey |
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His sad request of me to kindly stay away |
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So this is how |
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I hide the hurt as the road leads cursed and charmed |
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I tell Amelia, it was just a false alarm |
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A ghost of aviation, she was swallowed by the sky |
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Or by the sea, like me she had a dream to fly |
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Like Icarus ascending on beautiful foolish arms |
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Amelia, it was just a false alarm |
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Maybe I've never really loved |
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I guess that is the truth |
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I've spent my whole life in clouds at icy altitude |
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And looking down on everything |
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I crashed into his arms |
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Amelia, it was just a false alarm |
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I pulled into the |
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Cactus Tree |
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Motel to shower off the dust |
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And I slept on the strange pillows of my wanderlust |
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I dreamed of 747's over geometric farms |
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Dreams, Amelia, dreams and false alarms |