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Well I felt like I was born today |
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So I took it upon me to go away |
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To gather my thoughts and go away |
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Where I could (be used by) somebody |
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Now over the hill, like always you know |
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Were Billy and Frankie and Henry and Joe |
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And they beat and broke me hard and slow |
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To prove I was nobody |
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And no-one I was and so I remained |
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Knocked-out in a hut, no mother, no name |
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And filled up my heart with one and the same |
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That grand dark feeling of emptiness |
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And was it a friend that turned me loose |
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Or was it a girl come to baste my goose |
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Or was it my great god who laid on his finger |
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And started my clock anew |
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Ah no, it was rain; ah no, it was gunning |
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It was point-break and buckle and singing and cunning |
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That skinned me, re-skinned me and started me running |
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And I never looked back from then on |
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And now I am learning bit by bit |
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About the make and model shit |
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The muddy bowl I live in it |
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And all the mucks that tire us |
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And I'm afeared if I don't have |
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A piglet, lamb or little calf |
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I'll chop my humanness in half |
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And be as worm or virus |
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But kids I've had, and they are sung |
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Upon folks' ears my babes are hung |
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Rhythmically they live among |
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And grow but don't get old |
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Not in a box, not in a void |
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Not if their voice is never heard |
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Nor if no-one repeats a word |
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But if their tune is told |
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Then we can age and fall away |
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To meet again some golden day |
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And fill it in our happy way |
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In starlight and in gold |