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Exiles [USA]
por
King Crimson
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Now in this faraway land Strange that the palms of my hands Should be damp with expectancy Spring, and the air's turning mild City lights and the glimpse of a child Of the alleyway infantry Friends – do they know what I mean? Rain and the gathering green Of an afternoon out of town But Lord I had to go The trail was laid too slow behind me To face the call of fame Or make a drunkard's name for me Though now this better life Has brought a different understanding And through these endless days Shall come a broader sympathy And though I count the hours To be alone's no injury
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