| I sing above my vision. |
| I sing above my face
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| A fat old amphibian speaker for the dead
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| Gather round ye animals. |
| Gather round this lake
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| Take upon your vigil. |
| Wallow in the wake
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| It was glorious of glories-a maple April day
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| With a pocket full of horseflies and eyes as bright as rays
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| They said walk away walk away if you can
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| But one leap out the village and our caravan began
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| Traveled to a forest, nestled in the sky
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| He ran beside the buffalo-wrestled with the lions
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| Every day a saturday, a summer waking morn
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| His skin burned golden ember due the shine that toad had born
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| While riding back an eagle, laughing with the sun
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| He spied an old hairy fairy man upon the river Young
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| And Sol said, fly away fly away if you can
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| But he settled next the oarsman, said I’m my own man and this is my life…
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| Heed above my meter, Heed above my fate. |
| Can’t go back again…
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| I got a reason to be fevered-summer waking morn
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| Back back when the poor poor boy was born
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| Now cross into his fortune. |
| While enchanted by the queen
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| A lone shady shelter stood beckoning his lean
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| And in the time it takes a pillow to figure out a face
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| Out from in the white tree she rose to take its place
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| And the battle for his spirit then caused him to remain
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| And he fought as a thousand Visigoths and he cursed the night in vain
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| She said run away run away if you can
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| But last he heard a voice of… I'm my own man and this is my life…
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| Off to in her castle, laid upon the stairs
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| She showered him with daffodils and tied ribbons in his hair
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| He woke for bare a moment but she wouldn’t let him weep
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| With lips of only roses kissed him down to sleep
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| So royal loyal subjects now let your ears unbend
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| For here ye this traveled tail must sadly meet it’s end
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| What’s fate done to our hero I cannot reply…
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| The last that I saw him, a flection in her eye |