| Somewhere there’s a country
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| You remember from your youth
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| On the surface of this country
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| Is the one they built on top of it
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| The highway leads to everything
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| Except for what they’ve buried underneath it
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| There is a country made of telegrams and tailcoats
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| And nobody to grieve it
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| But when the sun is getting lower
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| Then the highway marks the graves
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| And the taillights, they circle
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| Like the roses of an infinite bouquet
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| And everybody leaves taillights
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| For the grey ghosts of railways and candle holders
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| There’s been an accident a mile away from here
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| I heard the sound of sirens
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| Then they turn back again and as they disappeared
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| I saw a trail behind them
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| You say, 'The wind is up, it’s out collecting lives'
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| 'An exit night is coming through'
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| Oh, the wind is up and moving
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| Like no wind I’ve ever known
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| The page that I was reading
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| Was the first that had to go
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| But still I kept on reading
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| Like the dead that have a memory of living
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| Because the wind is here to take the thing
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| I don’t think I am ready to be giving
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| And Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Juliet?
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| She flew off of the table, out the window
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| Now she’s mixing with the dead
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| Oh, won’t you make her go away?
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| I am not ready for her yet
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| Oh make her go away, I am not ready
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| I’m not ready for her yet
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| And the wind is up, it’s out collecting lives
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| An exit night is coming through
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| An exit night is coming through
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| Exit night has come for you
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| Oh exit light, exit moon
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| Tell me why
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| Why so soon?
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| I don’t know
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| I don’t know
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| And oh, go to sleep
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| Tomorrow the day will repeat
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| I will read 'til your memories fly away
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| There’s no need to worry
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| I will read until your memories leave your brain |