| A wise man’s son and Wednesday’s child in each other found a friend
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| And searched together for the treasure hiding at the rainbow’s end
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| To wise man’s son and Wednesday’s child all is white that is not black
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| They dance in symbiotic deadlock--one step forward two steps back
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| Playing karmic snakes and ladders (all your sins will find you out)
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| When all your gains are lost in vain on cosmic wings and roundabouts
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| At the roadside manhood’s flower--blighted by a wayward youth
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| Has cast its seed on well-worn pathways--borne on winds of whispered truth
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| We march to drums of our own choosing--each of them keeps different time
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| As you are free to live your own life so I am free to live mine
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| Now wise man’s son and Wednesday’s child can recognise their own mistakes
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| And to these ends they make amends for every promise that they break
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| Both wise man’s son and Wednesday’s child view the world in red and green
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| Await the day when they die laughing--thinking of the sights they’ve seen
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| I tell you now if they were given chance to live their lives again--
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| Wise man’s son and Wednesday’s child would make the same mistakes as then
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| At the roadside manhood’s flower--blighted by a wayward youth
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| Has cast its seed on well-worn pathways--borne on winds of whispered truth
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| We march to drums of our own choosing--each of them keeps different time
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| As you are free to live your own life so I am free to live mine |