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It sinks in the marsh of the old grey backlands
losing its grip on the bark and the weeds
sliding away from the depths of the heartland
watching it go is like watching you weep
In through the window and out 'cross the garden
and up through the skylight and into your room
over the carpet and up to your headboard
staring inside you it can see what only you can see.

The beating of wings will assail like thunder
a blackening sky brings a warning from sea
and running won't help you, no, and hiding won't help you, no,
and crying won't help you, no, the morning's not here.
Look up on the rail line, look up on and see inside
he is riding away from, riding away from…
see it go back to Backland.
See it go back to Backland.

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