| We lived in Paia
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| Hippie central, I could hop to the beach
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| Sometimes we would hitchhike
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| Miles to school, school being a figure of speech
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| Where we sang (kahuli aku, kahuli mai)
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| We lived on a zendo
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| In the forest, silence for days on end
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| Caught up on my reading
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| Huckleberry Finn was my only friend
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| It could have been paradise
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| But for the horrible bugs
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| I could have gone to a real school
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| But for the murderous thugs
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| In the forest of paradise
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| We gathered magic mushrooms
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| But mostly I sat around
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| In rooms as quiet as tombs
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| It was heaven
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| My mother took up with
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| A trumpeter, red-bearded, pork pie hat
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| Found a lyric of mine
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| He took it home and set music to that
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| To impress my mother
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| He stole my song. |
| Better back off, mister
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| Fast forward two decades
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| Same thing happened but with Shakespeare’s sister
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| Why should it be paradise?
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| That’s just a place people go
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| It was home for a little while
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| But you can give me the snow
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| Give me the snow
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| My friend Shell was named for
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| A shell on the beach. |
| She spoke pidgin English
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| Everyday I swam out
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| Onto the reef, catching exotic fish
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| It could have been paradise
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| With one good reason to stay
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| If it had been paradise
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| Guess we’d still be there today
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| Singing away |