| So you’re the man with a mansion
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| On the hill, like the fool you have built
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| But they say you’re on wisdom
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| With your words, be careful what you spill
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| And you open wide, all your doors at night
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| And let the people through
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| And you tell them of an eventful life
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| And every word, every word is right
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| But very rarely true
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| And in our minds there are mansions
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| Just like yours that will mean that much to you
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| And we are seeing the answers
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| But like you, they will never be fulfilled
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| In the past you’ll find you had once denied, the very thing you do
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| And you cannot see that throughout your life
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| Everything was, everything was right
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| So you open wide, all your doors at night
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| And let the moonlight through
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| And you contemplate on a buried life
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| And every thought is, every thought is right
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| But very rarely true
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| Every word is right
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| And very rarely true |