From the recording Playtime

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Go on little boy
Let the birds wheel and tumble in the morning sky
Your knowing it makes it so
All those number chains
Placed in a row
It’s your seeing, makes it so.

Run fast little boy
Tomorrow spins beyond your reach,
But wait,
The world will start to slow.
Those precious words
All in a row
Your speaking makes them so.

So let those dreams come
As dreams will, you know.
And when you wish upon a star
Your wishing makes it so.

Who knows what fine and terrible things await you
What thoughts and blessings will fill your soul
Who knows the heart
That must overthrow you
Into your certain, sweet reward.

Go on little boy
Let your days run forever in the morning light
Your knowing makes it so.
Your knowing makes it so.