It's the farthest place I've ever been
|
It's a new frontier for me
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And you balance things
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Like you wouldn't believe
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When you should just let things be
|
|
Yes, you juggle things
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Cause you can't lose sight
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Of the wretched story-line
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It's the narrative that must go on
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Until the end of time
|
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And you're guilty of some self neglect
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And the mind unravels for days
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I've told you once
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Yes, a thousand times
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I'm better off this way
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I'm better off this way
|
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Where's my queen of hearts
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My royal flush
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I have cleaned and scrubbed her decks
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My suicide, my better days
|
There's nothing I regret
|
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I've placed the Gods
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In a zip-lok bag
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I've put them in a drawer
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They've refused my prayers
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For the umpteenth time
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So I'm evening up the score
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Small metal Gods
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From a casting line
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From a factory in Mumbai
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Some manual labourer's bread and butter
|
And a single-minded lie
|
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Small metal Gods
|
Cheap souvenirs
|
You've abandoned me for sure
|
I'm dumping you, my childish things
|
I'm evening up the score.
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-----------------
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Small Metal Gods
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David Sylvian |