| Patchwork curtains; |
| paisley tweed and rose…
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| A blowing stained glass, song by you
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| A rooster crows, a rootee-too and a mew far off away,
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| Cats walking out to see the day.
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| There they are the hills, the sun between them
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| It’s coming up to me,
|
| Oh, it’s coming up to me
|
| There they are the hills, Topanga waking up
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| Waking up, waking up to me.
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| Face behind me, looking through a screen
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| Topanga sunrise, song by you,
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| Patchwork curtain mornings of our lives,
|
| And there you are,
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| Bringing us our day in color.
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| Rocks and trees and streams
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| Topanga reaching out
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| It’s reaching out to me
|
| Oh, it’s reaching out to me
|
| And there they are the hills, Topanga waking up
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| Waking up, waking up to me.
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| Patchwork curtains, mornings of our lives
|
| And there you are, just getting up
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| Bringing us our day in color
|
| Oh, rocks and trees and streams
|
| Topanga reaching out
|
| It’s reaching out to me,
|
| Oh, it’s reaching out to me
|
| And there they are the hills
|
| Topanga waking up
|
| Waking up, waking up to me. |