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Procol Harum
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Barnyard Story
Chicken in the farmyard, there's an oven in your bin
You're growing old with sorrow, you're growing fat with sin
I was living in the graveyard, i was hanging from the wall
I was living in the desert, i was trying not to fall
Once i stood upon olympus, then the heavens opened wide
I beheld that flaming chariot and i saw the sacred bride
Now and then my life seems truer, now and then my life seems pure
All in all, my thoughts are fewer - maybe death will be my cure
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