For ten weeks now number three stood empty
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Nobody thought there would be
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Family laughter behind the windows
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Or a Christmas tree.
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Then a couple from up north
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Sorrow and his wife arrived
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Before the sun had left the streets
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They were living inside.
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Then before too long
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The street it rang with the sound
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From number three there came a cry
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S. F. Sorrow is born.
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The sunlight of his days
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Was spent in the grey of his mind
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As he stole love with a tongue of lies
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The world is shrinking in size.
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-----------------
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S. F. SORROW IS BORN
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Pretty Things |