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Raise Your Glass

de Buck 65

A deaf violinist plays on the docks
He's missing a tooth and he stands on a box
His gestures are feverish, his cheeks wet with tears
He sleeps in his jacket, or so it appears
He plays from the late afternoon through the evening
And bows with his hat in his hand before leaving
He plays for the angels themselves I'm convinced of it
Because no music at all comes out of his instrument

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