By the time you get here all the birds will sing he's done and gone home
Cross the Buena Vista, marking miles, how the boy has done grown
So let the birds sing: La la la, la la, la la la … (repeat)
(You say) let 'em drown in dollars, digging down, dredging all those cents
(I say) We gotta love our neighbors but I'm glad they bought the real big fence
still we hear'm sing: Chorus (lalala's)
The Coleus in the Columbarium
Past their peak, the cold is killing'm
(and you don't care to know but) Winter's perching on the power lines
and he'll be here before you know it's time.
(So I think we ought to) take the shortest line, I'll get the good wine and let it all go
Wrap up in those vines and smoke our minds until we find that flow
(and we start to sing)
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