| Long ago I had a dream
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| A man came up to me
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| He gave me paper and a pen
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| And a cast-iron guarantee
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| He said «Write six words, make the next line rhyme
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| Learn four basic chords
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| When you’ve got the third line, well, in next to no time
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| You’ll be wanting more»
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| Well, I didn’t wanna know about a quid pro quo
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| Or why he was picking on me
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| Guess he didn’t know that I was tired of school
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| And bored of poetry
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| So I played along, stifled a yawn
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| Perhaps he was wrong in the head
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| And when I woke, I found a note
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| And this is what it said:
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| You can write your own words
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| You can sing your own song
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| And it doesn’t really matter if you’re out of tune
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| Or if no one sings along
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| You can write your own words
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| And you can make your own rules
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| And it doesn’t really matter how cool you are
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| Or what grades you got at school
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| When you sing your own song
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| So I took the advice, suffice it to say
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| That the rest is mystery
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| And if anyone out there’s nervous or scared
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| I suggest you listen to me
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| You can write your own words
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| You can sing your own song
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| And it doesn’t really matter if you’re out of tune
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| Or if no one sings along
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| Cos if you do what you like
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| And you like what to do
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| Then someone somewhere knows you’re there
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| And the world may come to you
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| When you sing your own song
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| Now I’m married and I have two kids
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| And we sing songs all the time
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| My four-year-old just makes them up
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| Sometimes with explanatory mime
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| No one’s told her that it’s difficult yet
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| That isn’t in her head
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| So we sing her song all evening long
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| Right until it’s time for bed |