| Now we’re wondering what the year will bring.
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| It seems, my friend, changes never end.
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| Now we’re growing up and down
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| and sigh, Tom, on the boulevard,
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| my Tom, on the boulevard.
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| But you shine with the light of stars
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| in the middle of the dark.
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| Too soon came hills of the deeper greens,
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| and the flying scenes.
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| Firmly as trees will we plant our feet.
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| We will sway not in the ground,
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| nor sigh, Tom, on the boulevard,
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| my Tom, on the boulevard.
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| And you’ll shine with the light of stars
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| in the middle of the dark. |