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Each night I taste the silence |
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Of the words in my throat |
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Each day we hide in laughter |
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When they turn round and float |
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Do you lie back and think of England |
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As they shout in your face |
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Stand up and give them flowers |
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Mary full of grace |
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Temper's out of control again |
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There's an itch in my soul again |
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If I scratch it I will rest in peace |
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Each day I'm in the future |
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Of a net curtaned past |
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Each day I'm out of pocket |
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Time didn't last |
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Each night I wake up smoking |
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And my eyes start to sting |
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Wish I could keep them open |
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When the trees start to sing |
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Temper's out of control again |
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There's an itch in my soul again |
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If I scratch it I will rest in peace |
|
Each night I taste the silence |
|
Of the words in my throat |
|
Each day we hide in laughter |
|
When they turn round and float |
|
Temper's out of control again |
|
There's an itch in my soul again |
|
If I scratch it I will rest in peace |