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My grand old English oak tree, in late last summer's evening sun |
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A shadow of your former self when you were great and proud and strong |
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The hills, they stretch so far beyond whatever you could ever hope to see |
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Here is where your glory lies, beneath these fields of apathy and greed |
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How can I trust you when your boughs have broken beneath my feet |
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A thousand times before? |
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How can I love you when your leaves are always brown? |
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They fall around me without shame |
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My grand old English oak tree, in late last summer's evening sun |
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You took the P out of my pride, I've been taken for a ride |
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Will you grow forever till your leaves can mingle with the furthest stars? |
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And millions come from miles around to shelter underneath your holy palms |
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How can I trust you when your boughs have broken beneath my feet |
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A thousand times before? |
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How can I love you when your leaves are always brown? |
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They fall around me without shame |
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Without an ounce of shame |
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No hope and glory left I said, How can we have let you down? |
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Laughing Jack and the Union Star, God hope I'll be around |