| I wish you a small house by the river
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| Close to the open sea
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| Dreamboats at the shore deliver
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| Tomorrow’s troops to march with thee
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| And all the world would share your values
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| No crusades necessary
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| And though your army cheered at you
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| You’d release them to walk free
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| But look what you have become
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| An open tuning without song
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| A corpse without a casket
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| The spoiled apple in the basket
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| Look what you have become
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| By decision disadvantaged
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| With habits hard to manage
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| An open book in a dead language
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| I wish you disciples smart and strong
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| Who never cut you loose
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| I want your mornings full of light
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| Your lovers to be true
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| I want your evenings to be sweet
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| Someone within the reach of your arms
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| The animals are all asleep
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| The light dissolves and it is warm
|
| But look what you have become
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| A rice corn without a chessboard
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| A great mind in a horde
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| That does not wish to be taught
|
| But look what you have become
|
| Your habits hard to manage
|
| Neither sculpture nor assemblage
|
| An open book in a dead language |