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He was seven and I was six, my Brendon Gallacher.He was Irish and I was Scottish, my Brendon Gallacher.His father was in prison; he was a cat burglar.
Once everything was bigand you were small,but year after year your shadow crept up the wall and you grew tall.
Let me do it, let me do itLet me blow up the balloonLet me do it, let me do itLet me go to the moon
Now the day is over,you're lying in your bedand cares are spinning endlesslyaround your weary head.Remember that the moon you seeis also shining down on me.