| We’ve got electric light — electric sight
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| Electric mother river
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| You float on down from town to town where they
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| Think they are in a certain charge
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| Moody angels and a little tree-goat
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| — We might even try and we might even float
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| Far up in the sky where mother Sun put her rays
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| We can see the garden flow with its electric face
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| And the knowledge we gained from clouds
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| Gone insane is the rhythm of the ol' triangle
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| To gather up some rain
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| C’mon, the river rape them
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| — Slaves of the moon
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| And the monster will turn up in the end
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| To settle down next June
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| So, why do they strive across their stream of lies
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| For they might turn vital, mean and wild
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| And we’ll turn them into matchsticks that’ll burn
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| Them 'till they die
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| I will leave far tonight You’d better find another
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| Clown for your circus to feed our common enlightenment…
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| Through and through |