| It’s the same kind of story
|
| That seems to come down from long ago
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| Two friends having coffee together
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| When something flies by their window
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| It might be out on that lawn
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| Which is wide, at least half of a playing field
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| Because there’s no explaining what your imagination
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| Can make you see and feel
|
| Seems like a dream
|
| They got me hypnotized
|
| Now it’s not a meaningless question
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| To ask if they’ve been and gone
|
| I remember a talk about North
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| Carolina and a strange, strange pond
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| You see the sides were like glass
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| In the thick of a forest without a road
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| And if any man’s ever made that land
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| Then I think it would’ve showed
|
| Seems like a dream
|
| They got me hypnotized
|
| They say there’s a place down in Mexico
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| Where a man can fly over mountains and hills
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| And he don’t need an airplane or some kind of engine
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| And he never will
|
| Now you know it’s a meaningless question
|
| To ask if those stories are right
|
| 'Cause what matters most if the feeling
|
| You get when you’re hypnotized
|
| Seems like a dream
|
| They got me hypnotized |