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Without The Moon
03:49
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Oh I'm dying, but you're the equivalent of a sunset pink.
And here we come toward champagne nights;
Oh, you're the light. Oh, you're the light.
Those philosophers were so right on,
but no one can save you from becoming a work of art.
And who's gonna kill me when you're gone?
I can't possibly go without the moon.
I've got nothing to prove- I've got nothing to prove to you.
You can sharpen your claws.
Once you filled me up like coins in a plastic cup
with every watch that ticks and every pin that pricks.
You professed your admiration for the objects you desired.
But I've got nothing to prove- I've got nothing to prove to you.
And you can sharpen your claws,
but I can sharpen my claws.
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