| Fifty years after the fair
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| The picture I have is so clear
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| Underneath the clouds in the air
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| Rose the Trylon and the Perisphere
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| And that for me was the finest of scenes
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| The perfect world across the river in Queens
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| Fifty years after the fair
|
| I drink from a different cup
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| But it does no good to compare
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| Cause nothing ever measures up
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| I guess just for a second we thought
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| That all good things would rise to the top
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| And how beautiful it was, tomorrow
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| We’ll never have a day of sorrow
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| We got through the '30s but our belts were tight
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| We conceived of a future with no hope in sight
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| We’ve got decades ahead of us to get it right, I swear
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| Fifty years after the fair
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| Fifty years after the fair
|
| I live in tomorrow town
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| Even on a wing and a prayer
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| The future never came around
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| It hurts to even think of those days
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| The damage we do by the hopes that we raise
|
| But how beautiful it was, tomorrow
|
| We’ll never have a day of sorrow
|
| We got through the '30's but our belts were tight
|
| We conceived of a future with no hope in sight
|
| We’ve got decades ahead of us to get it right, I swear
|
| Fifty years after the fair |