| I’ve got a cobalt friend, now he spends his time
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| Looking for people to feed him lines
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| Feeling up his head then reaching for mine
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| I ask him how he’s doing and he says: 'Just fine'
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| He calls it learning but we know that he’s dying
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| That seems to be the price when you’re walking on ice
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| It ain’t so nice but it helps to pass the time
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| You got to hang on, you got to hang on
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| You got to hang on before you fall, hey before you fall. |
| At social functions of
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| the marching band He takes his routine up on the stand And trying to get the
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| lay of the land
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| You know he sings and dances in the burning sand
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| Until someone puts a microphone in his hand
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| And then he will say as he slowly backs away
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| 'Another day perhaps you’ll understand'
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| You got to hang on, you got to hang on
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| You got to hang on before you fall, before you fall
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| With maps and charts now he plots the skies
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| Surrounds himself with mystic eyes
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| Dwells on deeds of other lives
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| Sings secret chants and lullabies
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| Then he’ll come to sit and hypothesize
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| Again and again about the shape that he’s in
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| Well now he’s my friend but I know that they’re mostly sighs
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| You got to hang on, you got to hang on
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| You got to hang on before you fall, before you fall. |
| And running behind the Hit
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| Parade He yells out songs that others have made Unable to see his own
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| masquerade
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| You know he waves his sword with the gilt edge blade
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| And I’d love to send him to Travelers' Aid
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| For when he hears the sound of the stuff he’s putting down
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| He might drown in his own cascade
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| You got to hang on, you got to hang on
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| You got to hang on before you fall, before you fall Before you fall, fall, fall,
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| before you fall You got to hang on, Sloopy, hang on Hang on before you fall,
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| all right |