The weak and hazy shades of winter sun
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Come shining through
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Lifting fog from the trees and a gentle warm breeze
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Send it up in to the blue
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Blue sky and you come creeping through my soul
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Goodbye our love's smoking too
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And the sound of those Italian engines
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Is much more the sound of you
|
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Miles was a cigarette smoky and long
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Gonna miss what I never had
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Now that cigarette is gone
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Miles Is A Cigarette
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| Chris Rea |
