| An orphan child walks and sniffs the air
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| In an orphan forest
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| Everybody seems to whip him badly
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| In this world of jealousy
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| Hes lost in the sea of tears and can’t confess
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| That he still exists
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| He walks alone, hes as weird as a stone:
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| He broke his needle and he can’t crawl
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| (Love him!)
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| He writes poems on a little red sheet
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| Showingem to his granny (rest in peace)
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| He blows his mind, out in the fields, catching
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| Just empty space
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| Ride on — ride on — ride on — Ride on to liberation
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| Ride on — ride on — ride on — Ride on to destination
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| Ride on — ride on — ride on — Ride on to your own sensation
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| Ride on — ride on — ride on — Ride till the music nation comes!
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| He builds a heaven on the top of his room
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| Forgetting the world outside
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| Then one prick comes, showing some interest, saying:
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| 'I can make you a big star'
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| In his mind he climbs to the clouds, throwing
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| Rotten flowers into the holes of the ground
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| So I ask: Who are you? |
| Already leaving?
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| Isn’t there any time.
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| Ride on — ride on — ride on — Riding the liberation
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| Ride on — ride on — ride on — Riding the satisfaction
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| Ride on… |