| Everybodys jumping on the circus train.
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| Some jump high, some jump off again.
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| And the razzmatazz is rolling, women folk unveiled.
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| All truths to light, all crosses nailed.
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| Aiming high where the eagle circles ---
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| Where he keeps his tail feathers clean.
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| And wonders ``am I still a free bird?
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| Or just a part of the machine.
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| They hitch their coverd wagons and they roll out west.
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| Politics in the pockets of their sunday best.
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| Shaking hands, kissing babies, for all that theyre worth.
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| Oh, they promise you gold, promise heaven on earth.
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| Still, that old bald eagle circles ---
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| Its not the first time that hes seen
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| His reflection in the eyes of innocence.
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| Hes become just another
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| Part of the machine.
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| I wish I had an eagle like you ---
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| To look up to.
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| He could be my wings to fly in a big bird sky
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| Up above the whole machine.
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| Smart guys arent running --- theyre home and dry.
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| Up in the mountains where the eagle flies.
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| They wouldnt take that job
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| Offered on a plate.
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| They got to fly with the eagle, and he wont wait.
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| Looking down on the smoke and the factories
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| Till the truth creeps up unseen.
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| They see themselves in the faces of their children
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| And realize they too are
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| Part of the machine.
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| I wish I had an eagle like you ---
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| To wake up to.
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| He could be my wings to fly
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| In a big bird sky, hey ---
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| Lets be part of the machine.
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| Part of the machine. |