| Once there was a man
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| Who had a little too much time on his hands
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| He never stopped to think that he was getting older
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| When his night came to an end
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| He tried to grasp for his last friend and pretend
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| That he could wish himself health on a four-leaf clover
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| He said is this the return to Oz?
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| The grass is dead, the gold is brown and the sky has claws
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| There’s a wind-up man walking round and round
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| What once was Emerald City is now a crystal town
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| Its three o' clock in the morning
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| You get a phone call from the queen with a hundred heads
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| She says that they’re all dead
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| She tried the last one on
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| It couldn’t speak, fell off
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| And now she just wanders the halls
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| Thinking nothing, thinking nothing at all
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| She says is this the return to Oz?
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| The grass is dead, the gold is brown and the sky has claws
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| There’s a wind-up man walking round and round
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| What once was Emerald City is now a crystal town
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| The wheelies are cutting pavement
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| And the Skeksis at the rave meant
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| To hide deep inside
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| Their sunken faces
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| And their wild, rolling eyes
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| But their callous words reveal
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| That they can no longer feel
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| Love or sex appeal
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| The patchwork girl has come to cinch the deal
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| To return to Oz we’ve fled the world
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| With smiles and clenching jaws
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| Please help me friend from coming down
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| I’ve lost my place and now it can’t be found
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| Is this the return to Oz?
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| The grass is dead, the gold is brown and the sky has claws
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| There’s a wind-up man walking round and round
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| What once was Emerald City is now a crystal town |