Lyrics
I've gazed upon the highest mountains,
I've looked down in the deepest sea,
It seems to me to be the same old story.
The good they always seem to die young,
And the bad live on to a ripe old age,
And the real heros who fight the wars, have no glory.
As hopless as this all must seem,
Beyond the grass lies deeper green,
And the less we have the more we seem to hold.
I do not know the answers, to these Mystic Dancers,
But the story seems to be worth more than gold,
More than gold.
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