| Touching down the highwire clown
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| Balances dreams that he’s chosen
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| Northern lights, all draped around
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| Melting stream that was frozen
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| Bicycles with rusted wheels
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| The frame in need of adjusting
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| Red sky night that Fred Neil feels
|
| Back when the Grove wasn’t bustling
|
| The working tide will come around again
|
| A serenade lies waiting in the wind
|
| For all your worldly treasures
|
| There’s nothing to be won
|
| Nothing left to measure
|
| Just you and me and the colour of the sun
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| Wild-eyed child wonders how
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| The sky connects to the ocean
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| Spinning fast then as now
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| She’s unaware of the motion
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| The wise men and the fools keep taking turns
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| Every day more bridges seem to burn
|
| With all your vaults of treasure
|
| Would you trade them for some fun
|
| What’s the price of pleasure
|
| Just you and me
|
| You can add subtract divide or multiply
|
| Watch the particles collide
|
| And trust the stars up in the sky
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| Sand dunes gone, snatched by a storm
|
| Are the Poles really shifting?
|
| Gypsy rains wash o’er the plains
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| Wood and dreams are still drifting
|
| The best the times can still somehow be found
|
| Even the worst of beaches
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| Will never let you down
|
| For all your worldly treasures
|
| For your battles lost and one
|
| Nothing left to measure
|
| Just you and me, and the colour of the sun |