| Friend why don’t you come with me
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| To where we used to be
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| On our childhood fields of clover
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| Share some of those magic spells
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| And all those wishing wells
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| On our childhood fields of clover
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| We had no restraints
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| We could be the villains or the saints
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| So won’t you stop a little while
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| And share a childhood smile
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| For the dreams of now are over
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| Did they really age and die
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| Like a little butterfly
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| Left in childhood fields of clover
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| In the autumn chill
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| The modern times had their will
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| And our childhood days were over…
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| Over…
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| But our childhood homes still shine like kodachromes
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| Where the ploughs have raped the clover
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| Only golden and money rule
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| Dreams are just for fools
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| But we have a mine
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| Where all the yesterdays shine
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| For my dream is never over
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| So every passing day, becomes a throwaway
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| Like our childhood fields of clover
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| The once bold and clear blue sky
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| Looks like it’s about to die
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| Who will hear the whistleblower
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| But in my heart I’m there
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| Even after all these years
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| I run through fields of clover…
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| The dream’s not over… |