| Early Sunday morning I was walking down the pier
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| Talking to myself again, trying to get things clear
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| I saw the old man blowing bubbles by Ezekiel’s carousel
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| The children hadn’t gathered yet, but I was waiting I could tell
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| He said, «I love to watch the children
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| Chase the bubbles that I blow
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| It helps me keep a promise
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| I made a long long time ago
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| I’m gonna love this world the best I can
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| Then leave the rest in grace’s hands
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| Gorgie on the boardwalk in another rent
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| Shouting it’s all over and it’s all to late to save
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| Preaching to some seagulls and to the rising sun
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| Preaching so much sorrow and the world had just begun
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| And I was thinking maybe Gorgie’s not so very wrong
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| Then I heard the bubble man singing
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| And I had to sing along
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| I’m gonna love this world the best I can
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| Then leave the rest in grace’s hands
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| On my way back homeward feeling kinda strange
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| Everything is different now but nothing really changed
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| Passing all the laughing children chazing bubbles in the sky
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| The old man saw me waving
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| But he did not wave goog-bye
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| He blow a giant bubble and smiled at what he done
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| And all of us were spellbound
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| As it floated to the sun
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| I’m gonna love this world the best I can
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| Then leave the rest in grace’s hands |