Lyric: Grant
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It is neither fair nor reasonable to expect sadness
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to confine itself to it's causes. Like a river in flood,
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when it subsides and the drowned bodies of
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animals have been deposited in the treetops, there is
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another kind of damage that takes place beyond the torrent.
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At first, it seemed as though she had only left
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the room to go into the garden and had been delayed by stray
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chickens in the corn. Then he had thought she might
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have eloped with the rodeo-boy from the neighbouring
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property but it wasn't till one afternoon, when he
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had heard guitar playing coming from her room and
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had rushed upstairs to confront her and had seen
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that it was only the wind in the curtains brushing
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against the open strings, that he finally knew she
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wasn't coming back. He had dealt with the deluge alright
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but the watermark of her leaving was still quite visible.
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He had resorted to the compass then, thinking that
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geography might rescue him but after one week in the
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Victorian Alps he came back north, realising that snow which
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he had never seen before, was only frozen water.
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I'll take you to Hollywood
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I'll take you to Mexico
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I'll take you anywhere the
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River of Money flows.
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I'll take you to Hollywood
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I'll take you to Mexico
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I'll take you anywhere the
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River of Money flows.
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But was it really possible for him to cope with the
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magnitude of her absence? The snow had failed him.
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Bottles had almost emptied themselves without effect.
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The television, a samaritan during other tribulations, had
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been repossessed. She had left her travelling clock
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though thinking it incapable of funcitioning in
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another time-zone; so the long vacant days of expensive sunlight
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were filled with the sound of her minutes, with the measuring of
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her hours.
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River of Money
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The Go-Betweens |