| Arthur read stories he got from the shelf
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| In the gingerbread house of the men in between
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| Making his mind up to keep to himself
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| And somewhere the future had been
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| Pinches of salt
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| Nobody’s fault
|
| Just the tune of the moon on the ocean
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| One year quite suddenly out of the blue
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| The phone box grew curtains with Sanderson prints
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| And designers of countryside loaded the view
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| With 'sort of' decisions and hints
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| And Arthur slept in on the edge of his seat
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| Way back in his mind where the butterflies flew
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| Bread non-commital to live nice and neat
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| With lots of his dreams coming true
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| Pinches of salt
|
| Nobody’s fault
|
| Just the tune of the moon on the ocean
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| Then came the day of the gig on the stage
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| The butterflies fluttered and scenery shook
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| Shapes became colours and turning a page
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| Wasn’t just quite by the book
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| But Arthur was sure
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| There must be some more
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| Pinches of salt
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| Nobody’s fault
|
| As the wolves of the law
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| Blew down the door
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| With the tune of the moon on the ocean |