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by Eric Clapton and Martin Sharp Twice upon a time in the valley of the tearsAn auctioneer is bidding for a box of fading yearsAnd the elephants are dancing on the graves of squealing mice.Anyone for tennis, wouldn't that be nice?And the ice creams are all melting on the streets of bloody beerWhile the beggars stain the pavements with flourescent Christmas cheerAnd the Bentley-driving guru is putting up his price.Anyone for tennis, wouldn't that be nice?And the prophets in the boutiques give out messages of hopeWith jingle bells and fairy tales and blind colliding scopes And you can tell they're all the same underneath the pretty lies.Anyone for tennis, wouldn't that be nice?The yellow Buddhist monk is burning brightly at the zooYou can bring a bowl of rice and then a glass of water tooAnd fate is setting up the chessboard while death rolls out the dice.Anyone for tennis, wouldn't that be nice? |
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