| o, if I had a grand piano
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| I would play a song for you
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| a song to make you wonder like you’ve never done before
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| with words to make the poets sing
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| and worship at the gate for you
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| but all I have are words that rhyme and they’ve all been
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| sung before
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| o, and if I had the painters eye
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| I’d reach behind the mask you show
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| and put it on a canvas that the world might see and sigh
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| and I’d show just what you feel inside
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| you think no-one must ever know
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| but I can’t paint a picture anymore than I can fly
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| you wear a wall around you
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| and I cannot break it down
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| but heaven is around you
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| and you wear it like a crown
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| though I may not be a poet
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| with words to sing a song for you
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| I have wonders of my own to make your senses spin
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| and though l may not be Picasso
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| I’ll colour every day for you
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| open up your window and let this poor boy in |