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Sunday, August 5, 2018

The Tourists


The Tourists

When the whole world
Is going wrong
It’s not a place
Where I belong
My body reels
To take the blow
An uppercut
Comes from below

When the whole world
Just makes no sense
It’s not a good
Experience
But if I blew
The world away
I’d have no other
Place to stay

So come with me, come take my hand
Together we can understand
When spaceships streak across the sky
They don’t pause to say goodbye

I shoot a glance
Across the bay
Folks on a yacht
Have come to play
The morning sun
Makes them look nice
And makes the bay
A paradise

A garden of innocence and ignorance
Is ringed now by a fence
And the streets here where we used to play
Are just another place to stay

A million blows
How I’ve been hit
Yet I still stand
And won’t submit
I want it all
But want you too
The world is old
And torn in two

So come with me, come with me now
We’ll figure all this out somehow
We’ll make them pause and compromise
We’ll catch them by surprise

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guitar - synth - pop
with a driving rhythm rising and falling to match the pattern and intensity of the lyrics
















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