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Come over. Climb over. Get over. Get on. |
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Climb over the hill to where you hope to find nothing |
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Find it teeming with gold in the light |
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Be disappointed and glum |
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Beat yourself like a drum |
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Yell out, "Who stole my silent night?" |
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Calling Sorrow your friend, ask her where has she been? |
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And where does she head? Left or right? |
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Call Compassion in, ask him "How are your kids? |
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And where are you guys crawling tonight?" |
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Bring Hope along tell her sing you a song |
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Have her sing of her travels and flights |
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In fact, go 'head and call all travelers |
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Keep trying vainly to gather |
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Which direction things are headed and why |
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They won't tell you where they go |
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They know you they know |
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That you stupidly hope to evade them |
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They say, "You can try. You will keep trying. |
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And you'll be right on the verge until you die. |
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And then you'll find you will never find a place to hide." |