| He lives in a valley where a creek runs by him
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| Every single day
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| Nothing’s around to tempt or try him
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| Or get in his way
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| Walkin back from the morning sunrise
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| High on top of his hill
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| Looking out over the peace in his valley
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| Is the best feeling that he can feel
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| From the tree tops way down far below
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| He can hear a joyous ringing singing
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| It’s in the rafters
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| You can hear it blow
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| La, la, la, la, de, dum, da
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| La, la, la, la, de, dum, da
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| 'Standing in the Dark' was his name when I met him
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| Shining by his own golden rule
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| Go where you want son and stay where you have to
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| Everybody’s somebody’s fool
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| There’s a pounding light coming out of the sky
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| And it wants to take us into the air
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| And set us down on a cloud passing by
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| La, la, la, la, de, dum, da
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| La, la, la, la, de, dum, da
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| (HARP SOLO)
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| Don’t you try to ask him
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| He’ll just start to laugh and
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| Never tell you what he really knows
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| Try to sit and listen
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| You’ll end up singing with him
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| La, la, la, la, de, dum, da
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| La, la, la, la, de, dum, da
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| (GUITAR SOLO)
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| From the tree tops way down far below
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| You can hear a joyous ringing singing
|
| It’s in the rafters
|
| You can hear it blow
|
| La, la, la, la, de, dum, da
|
| La, la, la, la, de, dum, da
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| La, la, la, la, de, dum, da
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| La, la, la, la, de, dum, da
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| Lyrics are copyright 1976, Michael Granda |