| On the streets where the streetcars are squeaking through the morning
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| The flags that are raised start to wave
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| Goodbye to the old people gathered by warnings
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| I stand on he corner and feel like a foreigner
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| Whoa, far from the sparkling blue waters
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| Where the fish and the canvasses play
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| And the waves are as calm as my father
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| And the daughters are dancing all day
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| In the house where the housewares are thrown out the window
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| And soap opera dreams, they do scream
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| And the people inside can’t decide where they will go
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| For the track it is wrong and the train it is long
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| Whoa, far from the sparkling blue waters
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| Where the fish and the canvasses play
|
| And the waves are as calm as my father
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| And the daughters are dancing all day
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| All the diamonds are packed back behind in the redwoods
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| In the Japanese freighters back home
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| But I won’t cut that tree till I’m sure that it’s deadwood
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| And the last leaf is fallen and summer is gone
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| Whoa, far from the sparkling blue waters
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| Where the fish and the canvasses play
|
| And the waves are as calm as my father
|
| And the daughters are dancing all day
|
| And the daughters are dancing all day |