| You know they say, they always say
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| That things will get better
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| If you believe in love, believe in hope
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| Believe in the way that you feel
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| But my trouble is
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| My troubles aren’t real
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| They’re real enough that in as much
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| As, yes, they are happening
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| But their burden bears upon the soul
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| Their weightlessness boring a hole
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| That’s deep enough to dive
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| So let the rain come down
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| And fill a swimming hole
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| Until the sun come out
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| Then we can go swimming
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| The turtledove, in all his love
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| Dissecting his babies
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| For the mites that dine, upon the plume
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| Removing them just to make room
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| «Alas,» he cried, «although I’ve tried
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| The next generation
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| Has appointed themselves in control
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| But tremble my young things no more
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| For we’ll never want for our dinner
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| So let the rain come down
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| And fill a swimming hole
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| Until the sun comes out
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| Then we can go swimming"
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| We will swim more, and more, and more, and more, and more
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| It’ll rain more, and more, and more, and more, and more
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| We will swim more, and more, and more, and more, and more
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| It’ll rain more, and more, and more, and more, and more
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| It’ll rain more, and more, and more, and more, and more
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| We will swim more, and more, and more, and more, and more
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| It’ll rain more, and more, and more, and more, and more
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| We will swim more, and more, and more, and more, and more |