| I was raised up believing I was somehow unique
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| Like a snowflake distinct among snowflakes
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| Unique in each way you can see
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| And now after some thinking, I’d say I’d rather be
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| A functioning cog in some great machinery
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| Serving something beyond me
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| But I don’t, I don’t know what that will be
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| I’ll get back to you someday soon, you will see
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| What’s my name, what’s my station
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| Oh, just tell me what I should do
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| I don’t need to be kind to the armies of night
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| That would do such injustice to you
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| Or bow down and be grateful and say
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| «Sure, take all that you see»
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| To the men who move only in dimly lit halls and determine my future for me
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| And I don’t, I don’t know who to believe
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| I’ll get back to you someday soon, you will see
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| If I know only one thing, it’s that everything that I see
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| Of the world outside is so inconceivable
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| Often, I barely can speak
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| Yeah, I’m tongue-tied and dizzy
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| And I can’t keep it to myself
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| What good is it to sing helplessness blues?
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| Why should I wait for anyone else?
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| And I know, I know you will keep me on the shelf
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| I’ll come back to you someday soon myself
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| If I had an orchard, I’d work till I’m raw
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| If I had an orchard, I’d work till I’m sore
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| And you would wait tables and soon run the store
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| Gold hair in the sunlight, my light in the dawn
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| If I had an orchard, I’d work till I’m sore
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| If I had an orchard, I’d work till I’m sore
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| Someday I’ll be like the man on the screen |