| Over the rooftop sails Billy
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| A string tied to his underwear
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| Through cobbled stone streets a child races
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| And shouts «Billy, come down from there!»
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| «My mother’s calling!», his voice whimpers
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| A string clutched in his tiny hand
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| «Not til' I’ve seen the sky’s not lit up
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| In tears, child try and understand
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| Don’t pull the string, don’t bring me down
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| Don’t make me land!»
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| Plastic palace people
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| Sing silent songs, they dream too long
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| Their memories just stare
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| Plastic palace Alice
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| She steals the cards tomorrow deals
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| With deafening despair
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| Hurry, you’ve got to get in line
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| Your nose might start to shine
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| And sweat it out and dance about
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| The whole eternal life
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| A harvest of stars surrounds Billy
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| The night clings to his happy eyes
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| Asleep in town square, beneath a fountain
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| A child murmurs a weary sigh
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| My mother weeps, and weaves her hair
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| With worries, «Please, come down from there»
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| Plastic palace people
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| Through fields of clay and granite grey
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| They play without a sound
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| Plastic palace Alice
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| Blows gaping holes to store her fears
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| Inside her lovers head
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| Listen, they’re laughing in the halls
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| They rip your face with lies
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| To buzzing eyes you cry for help
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| Like gods they bark replies
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| Over the rooftops burns Billy
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| Balloon sadly the string descends
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| Searching its way down through blue submarine air
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| The polka dot underwear
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| To meet the trees, in morning square
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| Just hanging there, just hanging there |