| I have fused some crystal images from common grains of sand
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| And if I haven’t reached the heavens, I’ve surely learned to fly
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| I’ve been caught up in the soaring and the touching of the sky
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| But the startripper’s coming on back home now
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| It’s a crazy blind man’s journey he’s been on
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| The startripper’s lost and all alone now
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| And it’s your face he’d like to look upon
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| Yes, he’s praying that you won’t be long gone
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| They put you in a capsule, they send you towards the sun
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| They carve you into plastic before you orbit’s done
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| And all the scribes and seers they chorus out your name
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| Though the photographs and headlines change the story stays the same
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| So the startripper’s coming on back home now
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| It’s a crazy blind man’s journey he’s been on
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| The startripper’s lost and all alone now
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| And it’s your face he’d like to look upon
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| Yes, he’s praying that you won’t be long gone
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| I thought that I was soaring like an eagle
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| I thought that I was roaring like the wind
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| I thought that I had surely reached the end now
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| But I can’t remember anywhere I’ve been
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| Was I looking for a star or something else behind it?
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| Whatever I was looking for, I surely dod not find it
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| And for all my sky high journeys the only thing I know
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| Is that you almost always lose yourself when you let yourself go
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| So the startripper’s coming on back home now
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| It’s a crazy blind man’s journey he’s been on
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| The startripper’s lost and all alone now
|
| And it’s your face he’d like to look upon
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| Yes, he’s praying that you won’t be long gone |