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I'll sing you this October song, |
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Oh, there is no song before it. |
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The words and tune are none of my own, |
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for my joys and sorrows bore it. |
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Beside the sea |
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The brambly briars in the still of evening, |
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Birds fly out behind the sun, |
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and with them I'll leavng. |
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The fallen leaves that jewel the ground, |
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They know the art of dying, |
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And leave with joy their glad gold hearts, |
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In the scarlet shadows lying. |
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When hunger calls my footsteps home, |
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The morning follows after, |
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I swim the seas within my mind, |
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And the pine-trees laugh green laughter. |
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I sed to search for happiness, |
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And I used to follow pleasure, |
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But I found a door behind my mind, |
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And that's the greatest treasure. |
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For rulers like to lay down laws, |
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And rebels like to break them, |
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And the poor priests like to walk in chains, |
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And God likes to forsake them. |
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I met a man whose name was Time, |
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And he said, "I must be goin," |
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But just how long that was, |
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I have no way of knowing. |
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Sometimes I want to murder time, |
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Sometimes when my heart's aching, |
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But mostly I just stroll along, |
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The path that he is taking. |