| I’ve got rippling waters to wake me to the morning my woman in love,
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| tall pine trees are pointing us easily to heaven above.
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| Blue spruce flaming on the grate in the evening, takes the chill away fine,
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| cut the telephone line, the story’s the same.
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| There’s a worn red chair by the window that she found at a sale down the way,
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| when some old woman said that they needed more room for the winter.
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| People like pulling out the stuffing when they sit down, so it passes the time,
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| cut the telephone line, the story’s the same.
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| Ooh, like a bubble on a windy day start to flutter when I hear you say,
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| That you feel too good to go away and you make me feel fine.
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| And you made the world a warmer place, by the sparkle of your diamond face.
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| On a gray spot, put a little lace and you make me feel fine,
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| warm as a mountain sunshine, on the edge of a snowline, in a meadow of
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| columbine.
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| Oh, little Jennifer, I’d give a penny for what you’ve got on your mind,
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| seems like most of the time you’re lying there dreaming.
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| Maybe in your vision you see how our mission is, slightly less than defined,
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| Cut the telephone line, the story’s the same.
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| Now rippling waters flow through the ceiling and the walls and they’re keeping
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| me warm
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| and the closest I’ve been to my family for days is my music.
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| But to silently stare in the morning sky is like hearing her calling my name,
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| cut the telephone line, the story’s the same.
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| Ooh, like a bubble on a windy day start to flutter when I hear you say,
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| That you feel too good to go away and you make me feel fine.
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| warm as a mountain sunshine, on the edge of a snowline, in a meadow of
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| columbine. |