Whenever I get to feel this way,
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try to find new words to say,
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I think about the bad old days
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we used to know.
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Nights of winter turn me cold --
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fears of dying, getting old.
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We ran the race and the race was won
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by running slowly.
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Could be soon we'll cease to sound,
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slowly upstairs, faster down.
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Then to revisit stony grounds,
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we used to know.
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Remembering mornings, shillings spent,
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made no sense to leave the bed.
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The bad old days they came and went
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giving way to fruitful years.
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Saving up the birds in hand
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while in the bush the others land.
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Take what we can before the man
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says it's time to go.
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Each to his own way I'll go mine.
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Best of luck in what you find.
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But for your own sake remember times
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we used to know.
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-----------------
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We Used To Know
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Jethro Tull |