We pause and judge upon the reigning queen
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Who looks like a ghost upon the money most
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People would agree
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Oh, the soulless dance upon the English dew
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Across the green fields a procession grows
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We are the out-of-time people of the rose, sing
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We are the out-of-time people of the rose
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The nightingale rejoices
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The hour disapproves, the morning unrequited
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The moon my heart did choose
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Now the dancing king is the sun
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The Dancing King
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| Damon Albarn |
