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King Crimson
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Matte Kudasai
Still, by the window pane, Pain, like the rain that's falling. She waits in the air, Matte Kudasai. She sleeps in a chair In her sad America.
When, when was the night so long, Long, like the notes I'm sending. She waits in the air, Matte Kudasai. She sleeps in a chair In her sad America.
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