| Rain is pouring down
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| In our land-locked town
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| Skies are always gray
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| Let’s go surfing, babe
|
| Somewhere there is hope
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| Somewhere there are dreams
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| Far from soot and smoke
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| Let’s go surfing, babe
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| Tonight as we look at the moon and the stars
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| From our room with security bars
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| There’s a westerly wind that is blowing both our minds
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| And both our feet
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| Walk through sand that’s as white as the snow
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| Past the people named Kelley and Joe
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| Who have nothing in common with anyone we know, we know they’re
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| Too Wagnerian
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| Too Shakespearian
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| Too impossible
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| Let’s go surfing, babe
|
| Somewhere there is hope
|
| Far from everything
|
| Far from misanthropes
|
| Let’s go surfing, babe
|
| Tonight, from a room only Dickens could love
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| Wearing moth-eaten sweaters and gloves
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| We will open the window and feel an on-shore wind a-blowing in
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| Grab our boards from the back of our van
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| Paddle out 'til we can’t see the sand
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| Spin around and drop into the wave we hope will never end
|
| Somewhere there is hope
|
| Somewhere there are dreams
|
| Far from everything
|
| Let’s go surfing, babe
|
| Tonight, grab our boards from the back of our van
|
| Paddle out 'til we can’t see the sand
|
| Spin around and drop into the wave we hope will never end
|
| Catch a wave, a wave, a wave
|
| Catch a wave, a wave, a wave
|
| Somewhere there is hope
|
| Somewhere there are dreams
|
| Far from everything
|
| Let’s go surfing, babe |