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A boy with one hundred hands |
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Came groping through the dark |
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And stumbled upon the light you gave off |
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And fell gently into your arms |
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One hand it held the earth |
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Another stirred the sea |
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One handed you a key and said: |
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We've come to set you free |
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'Cause you're better than the world you live in |
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The gossips and the clowns |
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Deep in your darkest dungeon singing |
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So no one can hear a sound |
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So no hand can come to pick you up |
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And no hand can pull you down |
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I drew a picture book |
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With pictures green and blue |
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And sent them off to a museum |
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All this I did for you |
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But one hand had used your heart |
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Held beating in the light |
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With a heart like that one hundred hands |
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Could never paint quite right |
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'Cause you're better than the world you live in |
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And nobody told you so |
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Trapped in your ghetto gardening |
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With no helping hand to grow |
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Just one hand to hold you in my heart |
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And one hand to let you go |