Sarah Close maestro

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He's a hollow man in a dead land
He's a fool with demand for change
He's a hot shot, in his high rise
A glass of wine and lady by his side
The city is drunk on the money he's burnt
Yeah he still parades these whispered words
Are things all good cause I'm not dead yet
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
He's a warrior and a fighter
He's a fool with a twisted smile
In his bloodstream, runs the
Of a maestro caught loose in the hands of misuse
The city is drunk on the money he's burnt
Yeah he still parades these whispered words
Are things all good cause I'm not dead yet
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Look at your voice, all alone and growing old
Look at your voice, oh, all alone in your city of gold
All our finery, left in pieces on the floor
What a sight to see, he waved away my words
All our finery, left in pieces on the floor
What a sight to see, what a sight to see
All our finery, left in pieces on the floor
What a sight to see, he waved away my words in search of something more
A sight to see, he waved away my words in search of something more
Look at you maestro, all alone and growing old
Look at your poor soul, all alone in your city of gold
Look at you maestro, look at your poor soul

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