A seasoned witch could call you from the
depths of your disgrace,
And rearrange your liver to the solid
mental grace,
And achieve it all with music that came
quickly from afar,
Then taste the fruit of man recorded losing
all against the hour.
And assessing points to nowhere, leading
ev'ry single one.
A dewdrop can exalt us like the music
of the sun,
And take away the plain in which we move,
And choose the course you're running.
Down at the edge, round by the corner,
Not right away, not right away.
Close to the edge, down by a river,
Not right away, not right away.
Crossed the line around the changes of
the summer,
Reaching to call the color of the sky.
Passed around a moment clothed in mornings
faster than we see.
Getting over all the time I had to worry,
Leaving all the changes far from far behind.
We relieve the tension only too find out
the master's name.
Down at the end, round by the corner.
Close to the edge, just by a river.
Seasons will pass you by.
I get up, I get down.
Now that it's all over and done,
Now that you find, now that you're whole.
My eyes convinced, eclipsed with the younger
moon attained with love.
It changed as almost strained amidst clear
manna from above.
I crucified my hate and held the word
within my hand.
There's you, the time, the logic, or the
reasons we don't understand.
Sad courage claimed the victims standing
still for all to see,
As armoured movers took approached to
overlook the sea.
There since the cord, the license, or
the reasons we understood will be.
Down at the edge, close by a river.
Close to the edge, round by the corner.
Close to the end, down by the corner.
Down at the edge, round by the river.
Sudden problems shouldn't take away the
startled memory.
All in all, the journey takes you all
the way.
As apart from any reality that you've
ever seen and known.
Guessing problems only to deceive the
mention,
Passing paths that climb halfway into
the void.
As we cross from side to side, we hear
the total mass retain.
Down at the edge, round by the corner.
Close to the end, down by a river.
Seasons will pass you by.
I get up, I get down.
In her white lace
You can clearly see the lady sadly looking.
Saying that she'd take the blame
For the crucifixion of her own domain.
I get up, I get down,
I get up, I get down.
Two million people barely satisfy.
Two hundred women watch one woman cry,
too late.
The eyes of honesty can achieve.
How many millions do we deceive each day?
[Thru the duty she would coil their said
amusement of her story asking only interest
could be laid upon the children of her
Domain]
I get up, I get down.
I get up, I get down.
In charge of who is there in charge of
me.
Do I look on blindly and say I see the
way?
The truth is written all along the page.
How old will I be before I come of age
for you?
I get up, I get down.
I get up, I get down.
I get up, I get down.
The time between the notes relates the
color to the scenes.
A constant vogue of triumphs dislocate
man, it seems.
And space between the focus shape ascend
knowledge of love.
As song and chance develop time, lost
social temp'rance rules above.
Ah, ah.
Then according to the man who showed his
outstretched arm to space,
He turned around and pointed, revealing
all the human race.
I shook my head and smiled a whisper,
knowing all about the place.
On the hill we viewed the silence of the
valley,
Called to witness cycles only of the past.
And we reach all this with movements in
between the said remark.
Close to the edge, down by the river.
Down at the end, round by the corner.
Seasons will pass you by,
Now that it's all over and done,
Called to the seed, right to the sun.
Now that you find, now that you're whole.
Seasons will pass you by,
I get up, I get down.
I get up, I get down.
I get up, I get down.
I get up.
