Right outside this lazy summer home
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You aint got time to call your soul a critic no.
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Right outside the lazy gate of winters summer home,
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Wondrin where the nut-thatch winters,
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Wings a mile long just carried the bird away.
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Wake up to find out that you are the eyes of the world,
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The heart has it's beaches, it's homeland and thoughts of it's own.
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Wake now, discover that you are the song that the mornin brings,
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But the heart has it's seasons, it's evenins and songs of it's own.
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There comes a redeemer, and he slowly too fades away,
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And there follows his wagon behind him that's loaded with clay.
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And the seeds that were silent all burst into bloom, and decay,
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And night comes so quiet, it's close on the heels of the day.
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[Chorus]
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Sometimes we live no particular way but our own,
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And sometimes we visit your country and live in your home,
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Sometimes we ride on your horses, sometimes we walk alone,
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Sometimes the songs that we hear are just songs of our own.
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[Chorus]
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