Oh seekers of spring how could you not find contentment
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In a time of riddling reasons in this land of the blind
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By the joke of fate alone
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it's sure that as the loved hand leaves you,
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You clutch for the slip-stream, the realness to find.
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But do what you like, do what you like, do what you like,
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do what you like, do what you like, do what you can,
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do what you can, live till you die
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My poor little man.
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For Jesus will stretch out his hand no more.
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But in the south there's many a waving tree;
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Oh would that musky fingers move your pain;
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In the warm south winds the lost flowers bloom again.
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And if you cried, you know you'd fill a lake with tears,
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Still wouldn't turn back the years,
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Since the city has took you,
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Mad Hatter's on my mind.
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So sad, sad to see the way it grew
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Those other people that I knew
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That have either fell or faltered.
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Mad Hatter's on my mind.
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And you must have to see clear some time.
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Prometheus the problem child,
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still juggling with his brains
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Gives his limping leopard's visions
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to the miser in his veins.
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Within the ruined factories the normal soul insane
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As he sets the sky beneath his heel
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And learns away the pain.
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But I am the archer the lover of laughter,
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And mine is the arrowed flight.
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I am the archer, and my eyes yearn after the unsullied sight.
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Born of the dark waters of the daughters of night,
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Dancing without movement after the clear light.
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Oh prithee an fate be kind in the rumbling and trundling rickshaw of time.
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Hooked by the heart to the king fisher's line,
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I will set my one eye for the shores of the blind.
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The Mad Hatter's Song
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The Incredible String Band |