| How many lives does it take to ruin a single one?
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| I once learned of a boy, he couldn’t sing at all
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| Yet he knew every note of my song
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| Found one day they called him, ‘The Wild Boy'
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| He’s a mess, he’s a man, what should we do with him?
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| He saw a tree, called it, Mom, and she called him, Son
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| Peter, what makes you sad?
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| And how in the world did you let it get this bad?
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| I knew a person who read up on the likes of him
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| He had no soul, he was young, he was fitting in
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| Peter ate plants, grew a beard and lived with kings
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| But, he couldn’t understand a thing
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| Peter, what makes you sad?
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| And how in the world did you let it get this bad?
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| Peter, how do you know?
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| Your eyebrows are the mountains, and your dandruff is the snow
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| The year that he died, the United States dollar was born
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| And now, when I pay for my lunch I feel tree-bark skin
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| He’s in my purse, in my ears, he makes thoughts begin |