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He cut your strings so that he could float - lit by lights, lifted by alcohol
Over acres of loving coast, far away from your lonely ghost
Now he’s cool and all, floating anchorless. Ports of call
Where it’s fabulous, after all of this watching himself just crawl

Think you see him? He’s not there, that’s just light that’s not yet dead
Wait two hours and watch what’ll be there instead

Was he small and cold, like a ring you call up from home
Held so tightly his limbs went numb, worn away between your finger and thumb?
Well, now he’s bought and sold. Cry his call number down the phone
He can’t hear you - he’s on his float, waving down to the folks at home

Think you see him? He’s not there, that’s just light that’s not yet dead
Wait two hours and watch what’ll be there instead

As the cameras love all of his faces
They hide all the traces of you in his heart
Stand in line to hold forth on his grace
But you won’t even get a head-start
Get a head-start

As his close-up comes cascading down from above
The eyes of a nation in love are looking on all of their hopes held up
And the words that some screenwriter counted and chose
And then set in their sequence and froze
Unfreeze on his tongue as he speaks for all of us

But one. And honey, he’s gone
And baby, he’s everyone’s. In the dark sky tonight
Cast your eyes on the dim light
That he will become. You’re like everyone

Who thinks they see him
He’s not there, that’s just light that’s not yet dead
Wait two hours
And watch what’ll be there instead

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