| Mellow was the world when it began
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| The alphabet and a master plan
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| Settled in the trees and growing like a vine
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| A delivery arriving back in time
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| The officer revolt walks the beat with a bang
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| For a millisecond and a boomerang
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| As they walk away singing the peace is not so strong
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| To turn the inside to the out and right to wrong
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| But silly as it is, when you can bang your head
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| And who needs history when time just moves ahead
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| As everything you want brings something else instead
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| A hammerhead might taste the blood
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| A ladybug might see the red
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| There was a princess, her friend the mouse, and his little cheese
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| And she wore these tiny slippers wear you’d think her toes were squeezed
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| As she smiles on a swing, glides above a flower bed
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| The gentle nature of a woman gives me hope to rest my head
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| And hope fuels generations
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| And hope can start your car
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| And hope is the root of fantasy
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| It’s nothing but a star
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| Which may be fleeting, may be bright
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| May keep you staring at the night
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| Where one might question what life will be
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| Quietly, I ask myself, 'Is there still hope for me?'
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| Hope is a generation
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| Bang your head in the car
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| And what is the root of fantasy?
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| Lay your bet on a star |