| You gonna move your feet march the march
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| Walk the walk
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| You gonna brain your brains
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| And then talk the talk
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| You gonna make your way and blow
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| Hot and cold
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| You gonna occupy your arms
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| And then unfold
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| There is no end, no stop, no terminus
|
| It’s a circle and it’s about
|
| Finding your own pace
|
| You gonna braid your lock stock and barrel
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| And not shovel
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| You gonna put your demands on a shelf
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| You can handle
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| But never get too cushy or get-at-able
|
| You gonna bask
|
| But don’t rest your feet too much on the table
|
| There is no end, no stop, no terminus
|
| It’s a circle and it’s about
|
| Finding your pace
|
| Finding your place
|
| But don’t get too comfortable
|
| You gonna blossom, do well
|
| But we’ve got flowers on the ground
|
| You gonna be a worker but don’t become a hound
|
| Use your heart on others, on yourself use your head
|
| You gonna take your time, take your place
|
| Take your liberties instead
|
| There is no end, no stop, no terminus
|
| It’s a circle and it’s about
|
| Finding your place
|
| In the race
|
| Choose your pace
|
| And what to chase
|
| Or embrace
|
| Find your pace
|
| And what to chase
|
| Or embrace
|
| Finding your case
|
| Then finding your liberties instead |