Clear sky over Calcutta A warm wind Dvorak on the short wave Clear signal coming in
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Long vowels spill like liquid from your mouth I hang on every word you say An army of transistor radios on the bookshelf Left on all day
Let them play Yeah, let them all play on and on and on Let them all play longer and louder And long after you're gone
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Clear sky sheltering our fragile little house Listening to the radio all the time Your hand on my forehead as though to check for a fever Yeah, big plans in mind
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