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And back at the Wilshire, Pedro sits there dreaming
He’s found a book on Magic in a garbage can
He looks at the pictures
And stares up at the cracked ceiling
“At the count of 3,” he says,
“I hope I can disappear.”

And fly, fly away from this dirty boulevard
I want to fly from the dirty boulevard
I want to fly from the dirty boulevard
I want to fly-fly-fly-fly from the dirty boulevard

I want to fly away
I want to fly
Fly, fly away
I want to fly
Fly, fly away
Fly, fly away
Fly, fly away
Fly, fly away
I want to fly
— Dirty Blvd, Lou Reed

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