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folk song
finger picking

Circle around, gonna tell you a story, about this little bit of time
the clouds are fluffy and gray-in their prime, sunshine fading
as the winter stands in line, waiting for spring to come

Yellow and white flowers pushing through, the good earth just in time
to see real beauty on our faces, painted clown white, father and son
carnival reveling, sparkling eyes peeking through,
humorless humor and the cosmic clown sees you

The fools profound yielding, to the clown atop the grassy hill
sitting and staring at the majesty below
another day gone by, silver ship in the sky
all worlds above and below, witnessing

Itís the dawn of time, any age will do, when playing the fool
court jesters got the jack of hearts between his toes
and running down that green grassy knoll

Out of sight into the crowd he goes
she knows the answer to the riddle
so stop, turn around
to look to where you just were
fade out, end of scene- translations invisible