| winter’s melted into spring
|
| brings catepiller creeps in slowly, lowly
|
| you know, he’s inches away through wedded green thing
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| until it builds a lonely room
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| he’s gonna sleep like death in a homemade tomb
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| then once I took a look away that brown cocoon
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| the silent pleasure to my eyes
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| beautiful butterfly
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| oh, won’t you flutter, flutter by my way?
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| won’t you decorate my day?
|
| and the seasons keep turning around
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| for the reasons have yet to be found
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| and the world is turning on
|
| and when something’s gone
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| you know it’s something’s coming
|
| it’s something’s coming
|
| when something’s gone, something’s coming
|
| when something’s gone, something’s coming
|
| something’s coming
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| he’s got dirt in his hair and his eyes and his ears
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| don’t you put him down
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| frayed teeth frightened my leaves
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| well, it’s been up to seven years in this town
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| it’s autumn
|
| he’s must have dust a chance enough a
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| poor old guffer, nobody loves ya
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| let him go and didn’t seek
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| and now he’s only left with tobacco
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| weaken through his skin
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| times would have been, guffer gonna die soon
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| and a newborn baby gonna cry soon, way soon
|
| and the seasons keep turning around
|
| for the reasons have yet to be found
|
| and the world is turning on
|
| and when something’s gone,
|
| you know it’s something’s coming
|
| it’s something’s coming
|
| when something’s gone, something’s coming
|
| when something’s gone, something’s coming
|
| when something’s gone, something’s coming
|
| when something’s gone, something’s coming
|
| when something’s gone,
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| something’s hanging round the corner
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| when something’s gone, something’s coming
|
| something’s coming |