Movin’ on…
7 o'clock on a Sunday morning
Everything turns, everything's moving
And the clouds, they’re looking at me
Asking me, what did you do, silly?
Movin’ on…
Hardly got off my own bed
Feet on the ground, tongues will wag
I can't think, and I can't see
I really hate being at sea
Movin’ on…
Hang on, hang on, hangover
I finally see what happened to me
It feels a bit like a tragedy
I’d never get that close to you
Without having a drink or two
Movin’ on…
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