| I am stuck in L.A. through the week and can’t get away
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| And you’re alone on the pier in West Palm Beach on your holiday
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| Stormy nights, re-awake the stomach ache
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| That I’ve acquired, from feeling down
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| Things look grim and I’m so sick of being tired
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| Apartment lights go dark and it’s depressing
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| But what can I do?
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| The midnight streets feel dead
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| When I am so used to driving with you
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| Brighter lights fill the nights
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| And bluer skys reflect in your eyes
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| As I inspect and analyze
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| All of these dreams I don’t recognize
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| If you’re still up when the ships in the port prepare to set sail
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| Comb the beach and put those blue flowers up in your ponytail
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| Inside my head your voice is still resounding
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| But what can I do?
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| The empty rooms feel cold
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| When I am so used to being with you
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| Count the stars, watch the waves, absorb the summer sun
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| And think of me when you explore hidden coves
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| And tiny island chains throughout the sea
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| Can you still, hear my voice
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| When I’m outside, from over the phone?
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| For what it’s worth, darling dear
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| I wish you were here, 'cause I feel alone
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| When you were home we’d sing
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| But since you’ve left I dont hear anything
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| Though I feel so sad
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| I can’t believe things are really that bad
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| Old captains and brand new cruise ships
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| Sailing over the briny sea
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| When I crashed my beloved desk job
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| And swim through the debris
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| I’ll cut loose leave this mad house
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| Bound for the Atlantic blue
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| I’ll stroll down your treelined driveway
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| And sail the ocean with you |