| Everybody wants perspective from a hill
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| But everybody’s wants can’t make it past a window sill
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| I can see you in your room at night
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| Pictures on your walls
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| Little forest scenes and high school Halloweens
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| But they don’t come to you
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| They don’t come to you at all
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| All houses dream in blueprints
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| Our houses dream so hard
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| Outside, you can see my shoeprints
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| I’ve been dreaming in your yard
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| One of these days, these days will end
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| The kitchen window, the light will bend
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| You’ll be carving a pumpkin with a knife
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| When someone at the table says:
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| «That's not what I call a life!»
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| The elephants are so ashamed of their size
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| Hosing them down, I tell 'em, «You got pretty eyes»
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| Out in the backyard, I used to make like I was a cowboy
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| I’d set my dog before a hoop and say, «Now boy, now boy!»
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| When the governor’s heart fails
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| The state bird falls from its branch
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| Icicles on hell’s higher hills
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| Meanwhile, back home at the ranch
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| I still get up early in the morning
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| And I never knew a better place
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| I believe that stars are the headlights of angels
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| Driving from heaven to save us, to save us
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| Look in the sky
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| They’re driving from heaven into our eyes
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| And final words are so hard to devise
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| I promise that I’ll always remember your pretty eyes
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| Your pretty eyes |