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01 February 2012 @ 11:51 pm
Еще из Англии  
Through Dorset goes the way
Through Devon goes the road
The sheep is free to graze
The moors are red and wet 
The beauty we can get
The accidental grace

The villages unfold
Their ancient cobbles and bricks
The distance breathing cold
The salty scent of sea
And on the road, you see
We play the cheapest tricks

Behold: a brown church
The Ploughman lunch for lunch
The sky -
To make you cry
Its psychedelic stripes
And I repeat: oh my,

I shouldn't wear your ring
We shouldn't share a bed
There's no more love I get
There's no more love I give
It seems to be the end 

Behold: a whiskey mist
Before the winter dawn
The happiness we miss
The chance to stand alone
But still there is a twist
But still there is a game
Through Dorset goes the way
And then we might replay
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