| 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 |