| Last night we had Thanksgiving, first week of December
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| Wasn’t until the first that I got home from tour
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| The turkey wasn’t ready until 9 PM or so
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| And I ate so much, I just laid on the couch to a tryptophan coma
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| The wind was still outside, the smell of turkey
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| And the sound of the wind, the cold temperature
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| Made me think of the The Shining
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| We almost watched it but I said, «Let's wait until Christmas time»
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| On Christmas, I religiously watch The Shining
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| Good nostalgia, I believe it’s called
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| It makes me go back in time, makes me feel warm inside
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| But I’ve not been in the mood
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| To watch much of anything since I’ve been home
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| Except the Black Sabbath documentary that I fell asleep to
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| There’s been so much, so much, so much on my mind
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| My brain is still foggy with jet lag and I’ve not unpacked my bags
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| Looking at them makes me think of the recent past
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| Opening my luggage makes me think of the tours
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| The airplanes, the dirty socks, the dirty T-shirts, and the ironing
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| But it also makes me think of the shows
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| That were sometimes spellbinding and other times soul-crushing
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| But they all blew together
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| Were they dreams or did they actually happen?
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| For three hours I’m heaven, I’m heaven or I’m in hell
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| And everyone’s on trains and it’s over
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| And I’m so happy to finally come home to you
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| To your love and your body and your warm heart
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| I wake up every two hours and think
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| «Where am I? |
| What country is this? |
| What city am I in?
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| Is this Paris? |
| Is this Madrid? |
| Or London, or Dublin, or Rome?
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| This hotel room looks so big,» I think, «Where is the bathroom?»
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| I stumble around and touching the walls, then I awaken
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| Just a tad more realized I’m home
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| And the December air is so cold
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| I get back into bed and lay next to your warm beautiful body
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| I don’t want to grow old
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| When I’m bed with you is when I’m most happy
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| And when you leave for work in the morning
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| I get separation anxiety
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| When you’re beside me, you always calm me
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| You hear me out on all my worries
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| You help me make sense of everything
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| My God, last night on December 4th
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| You cooked me a turkey with mashed potatoes and stuffing
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| I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you |