| In the beginning we were full of ideals
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| We were talking it out
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| Instead of keeping it real
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| It was a palace, made of papier-mâché
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| And it got thicker and thicker
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| As we were adding it on
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| I gave your palace a garden
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| And a fake little lawn
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| Made it look so pretty
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| Instead of making it strong
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| We kept ourselves in the moment
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| We didn’t ask for a lot
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| And we were dreaming of nothing
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| And now it’s all that we’ve got
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| So if you’re thinking of building
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| You should start with the cellar
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| Maybe read a few books by Buckminster-Fuller
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| Keep it strong, keep it simple
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| And make it air tight
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| And if you fail then start over
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| With whatever is left
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| It seems only apparent
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| That those old parts work best
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| See how everything falters when put to the test
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| Now you can take what you want
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| Like you can leave what you chose
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| But if you’re dreaming of nothing
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| Then, you’ve got nothing to lose
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| So I’m walking around with my bag full of parts
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| And I’m looking for someone
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| With some rulers and charts
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| Who maybe is looking to build something new
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| Maybe out in the country
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| Where we won’t need that lawn
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| We’ll have acres and acres
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| And some fish in a pond
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| No more rain, no more salvage
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| And no more wandering around
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| That’s what I’m dreaming about
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| We’ll build this house together
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| And shape it as we please
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| Because I don’t need a place
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| I’m dreaming of nothing
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| Are you dreaming with me
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| Are you dreaming with me |