| Flying, I thought Id never learn that flying
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| I thought Id spend my whole life trying,
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| For flying is that ancient art of keeping one foot on the ground…
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| Lying, I thought Id never keep from lying,
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| I thought Id lose it all by sighing,
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| For lying is that ancient art of hiding words that will never be found
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| Crying, I thought Id never stop that crying,
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| I thought Id always dream of dying
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| For crying is that ancient art of weeping rivers into the ground
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| Oh dying, I thought Id never see that dying,
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| I thought Id spend my whole life flying,
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| For dying is that ancient art of keeping one world turning round
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| Sighing, I thought Id never keep from sighing
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| I thought Id always be there crying,
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| For sighing is that ancient art of breathing sadness all around
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| And trying, I thought Id spend my seasons trying,
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| I thought I could stop myself from lying,
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| For trying is that ancient art of proving that the world is round
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| Oh flying, oh oh, lying, oh oh, crying, oh oh, sighing, oh oh,
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| Trying, oh oh, and dying, oh oh,
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| For dying is that ancient art of growing flowers in the ground,
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| Yes it is… |