| Oh the ghosts are sitting in their trees
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| Quietly they are singing to me
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| Some slow slow song, forgetting the words
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| Like long last names or lessons I’ve learned
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| But I swear that you can never tell
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| After four weeks you look like hell
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| Fingers crossed I’m following you
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| I’ll met you on the open side, in the morning heat
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| I can feel the turning tide, it’s changing me
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| Staring at the sinking sky it’s in my reach
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| I can see us sinking eyes you won’t sleep
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| Out again, this city’s our house
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| But its haunted now
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| The people come out
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| And they fill these rooms until the people come clean
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| And I left too soon but I can’t explain
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| But I swear that you can never tell
|
| After four weeks you look like hell
|
| Fingers crossed I’m following you
|
| I’ll meet you on the open side
|
| In the morning heat
|
| I can feel the turning tide
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| It’s changing me
|
| Staring at the sinking sky
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| It’s in my reach
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| I can see a sinknign eye
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| You don’t sleep
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| But i swear that you can never tell
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| I look for weeks you look like hell
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| Call this off or follow through
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| Fingers crossed I’ll follow you
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| I’ll meet you on the open side in the morning heat
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| I can feel the turning tide its changing me
|
| Staring at the sinking sky it’s in my reach
|
| I can see our sinking eyes you don’t sleep
|
| I’ll meet you on the open side in the mornign heat
|
| I can feel the turning tide it’s changing me
|
| Staring at the sinking sky, it’s in my reach
|
| I can see your sinking eyes you don’t sleep
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| I can see your sinking eyes you don’t sleep |