| You gotta be a dreamer to unleash the inner man
|
| And always have a way to beat the guessing
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| And if you couldn’t swim, you had to do the best you can
|
| That’s what I took to be his blessing
|
| And though the water may be deep and cold
|
| He always pushes harder to be kind
|
| Yet on the morning after,
|
| When things have settled down
|
| No words express what he knows
|
| No palette paints his hand
|
| No ordinary hero, this old man
|
| Welcome to the carnivore who eats his fellow man
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| Welcome to the land we call Britannia
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| Where everybody needs the kinda guy that takes a stand
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| You can’t imagine life without him, can yer?
|
| And though the water may be deep and cold
|
| He always pushes harder to be kind
|
| Yet on the morning after,
|
| When things have settled down
|
| No words express what he knows
|
| No palette paints his hand
|
| No ordinary hero, this old man
|
| He got a certain rhythm and a sympathetic smile
|
| He’s always got a tale or two to hold ya
|
| He’ll barricade the roads when others jump the stile
|
| He’ll always be the one, the local solider
|
| And though the water may be deep and cold
|
| He always pushes harder to be kind
|
| Yet on the morning after,
|
| When things have settled down
|
| No words express what he knows
|
| No palette paints his hand
|
| No ordinary hero, this old man
|
| No words express what he knows
|
| No palette paints his hand
|
| No ordinary hero, this old man |