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And it's a long, long way to the top But when you come down it's one headlong rush You've got an itch to scratch the shiny bits of light Hanging like stars, hanging like stars And Mary says, you're such a restless soul My Bicycle Spaniard, my Magyar of cold You've got an itch to find what's best left lost and cold My Bicycle Spaniard, my poor restless soul My Bicycle Spaniard, my poor restless soul Aus Songtexte Mania