| I heard it in the wind last night
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| It sounded like applause
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| Did you get a round resounding for you
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| Way up here
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| It seems like many dim years ago
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| Since I heard that face to face
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| Or seen you face to face
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| Though tonight I can feel you here
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| I get these notes
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| On butterflies and lilac sprays
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| From girls who just have to tell me
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| They saw you somewhere
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| In some office sits a poet
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| And he trembles as he sings
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| And he asks some guy
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| To circulate his soul around
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| On your mark red ribbon runner
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| The caressing rev of motors
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| Finely tuned like fancy women
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| In thirties evening gowns
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| Up the charts
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| Off to the airport
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| Your name’s in the news
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| Everything’s first class
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| The lights go down
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| And it’s just you up there
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| Getting them to feel like that
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| Remember the days when you used to sit
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| And make up your tunes for love
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| And pour your simple sorrow
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| To the soundhole and your knee
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| And now you’re seen
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| On giant screens
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| And at parties for the press
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| And for people who have slices of you
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| From the company
|
| They toss around your latest golden egg
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| Speculation well who’s to know
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| If the next one in the nest
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| Will glitter for them so
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| I guess I seem ungrateful
|
| With my teeth sunk in the hand
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| That brings me things
|
| I really can’t give up just yet
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| Now I sit up here the critic
|
| And they introduce some band
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| But they seem so much confetti
|
| Looking at them on my TV set
|
| Oh the power and the glory
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| Just when you’re getting a taste for worship
|
| They start bringing out the hammers
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| And the boards
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| And the nails
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| I heard it in the wind last night
|
| It sounded like applause
|
| Chilly now
|
| End of summer
|
| No more shiny hot nights
|
| It was just the arbutus rustling
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| And the bumping of the logs
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| And the moon swept down black water
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| Like an empty spotlight |