| Jason Mason hears a sound
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| A whistle blows in Congo town
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| And the mail boat’s in, the mail boat’s in
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| It brings him things from oh so far
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| Old magazines and snickers bars
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| A simple man, a simple land
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| The world’s too big to understand
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| Be good and you will be lonesome
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| Be lonesome and you will be free
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| Live a lie and you’ll live to regret it
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| That’s what living is to me
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| That’s what living is to me
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| On a timeless beach on Hisanola
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| A young sips a diet cola
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| She’s worlds apart, worlds apart
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| The spirit of the black king still
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| Reverberates through Haitian hills
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| He rules the sea and all the fish
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| What if he had a TV dish?
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| In some far off regions the foriegn legions
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| Keep the theives and the preditors at bay
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| While closer to home some bad boys still roam
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| The streets aren’t safe but give it one more day
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| One more day. |
| .
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| The stories from my favorite books
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| Still take on many different looks
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| And now I’m gone, home again
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| The time has come the walrus said
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| And little oysters hide their head
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| My Twain of thought is loosely bound |
| I guess it’s time to Mark this down |