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it's one o clock on a friday morning |
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i'm trying to keep my back from the wall |
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the prophets and their bombs have had another success |
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and i'm wondering why we bother at all |
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and i think of you on cold winter mornings, darling |
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they remind me of when we were at school |
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nothing really mattered when you called at my name |
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in fact nothing really mattered at all |
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and i'm thinking about how long it will take them to blow us away |
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but i won't get me down |
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i'm just thankful to be facing a day |
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'cause days don't get you far when you're gone |
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it's five o clock on a friday morning |
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one hundred telephones shake and ring |
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one of them's from someone who knew you |
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well i'll still think of you on cold winter mornings, darling |
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they'll still remind me of when we were at school |
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when they could never have persuaded me that lives like yours |
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were in the hands of these erroneous fools |
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and to those of you who moan your lives through one day to the next |
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well let them take you next |
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can't you live and be thankful you're here |
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see it could be you tomorrow next year |