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And I've been getting urges late at night |
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To walk and walk for days and throughout lights |
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Through people's houses, picking food from plates |
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Through people's gardens, picking locks on gates |
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So we are moving to a lighthouse, you and I |
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While seas drown sailors, we'll be locked up safe and dry |
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And though our doors may knock and rattle in the wind |
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I'll just hold you tight and we'll not let those fuckers in |
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And I've been leaving gifts out in the woods |
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That someone might stumble upon and wonder at their origins |
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I've been feeling like a fox with sad old eyes |
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Whose skulk has all moved on to leave the dark and empty den behind |
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So we are moving to a lighthouse, you and I |
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While seas drown sailors, we'll be locked up safe and dry |
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And though our doors may knock and rattle in the wind |
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I'll just hold you tight and we'll not let those fuckers in |
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I'll anull these little walls of attrition and these invocations |
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That's seen me holding my camera out at arms length |
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To self-document these new locations |
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When I should be leaning against you |
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Deciding on things to get done |
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And you should be leaning on fountains |
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And filling my space up and breathing the air from my lungs |
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Na na na na |
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So we are moving to a lighthouse, you and I |
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While seas drown sailors, we'll be locked up safe and dry |
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And we are moving to a lighthouse, you and I |
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Our beams will burn the clouds to beacons in the sky |
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And though our doors may knock and rattle in the wind |
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The wind... |
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I'll just hold you tight and we'll not let those fuckers in |