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In the overgrowth of the underbrush |
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Shone a fossil tooth which I must have dropped |
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Very long ago |
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Which reminded me how we wound up where we are now |
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Right through those trees, I'm not insane |
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That's where we came into this place |
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And if you squint, if you squint your brain |
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I'll get my paints and I'll try to paint |
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Canajoharie |
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Canajoharie |
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Where a front flipper first evolved on the day |
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When a daring mudskipper dragged itself away |
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Out of Canajoharie |
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Canajoharie |
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Call me sentimental but I want to go back |
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And commemorate the place with a historical plaque |
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It's as if a fin, reaching from the swamp |
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Grabbed me by my arm, tried to pull me in |
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But my arm was strong |
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And the fin was an inaccurately reconstructed fake |
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It was right through those trees, I'm not insane |
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That's where the fin tried to drag me in |
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Don't look at me, look at where I'm pointing |
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Close your eyes, see what I see |
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Canajoharie |
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Canajoharie |
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I get the creeping feeling all my old friends are gone |
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And that this baby tooth no longer fits in my skull |
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If you can draw it in the air |
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Or write it down, then you weren't there |
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What's gone is mute |
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Someone changed the truth |
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They smoked the proof |
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And there's nothing left of |
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Canajoharie |
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Canajoharie |
|
Where a front flipper first evolved on the day |
|
When a daring mudskipper dragged itself away |
|
Where a rocket ship experiment went awry |
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When the prototype exploded on the launching site |
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Back in Canajoharie |
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Canajoharie |
|
Call me sentimental but I want to go back |
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And commemorate the place with a historical plaque |