The eagle soars in the summit of Heaven
But my heart lingers in the bossom of thy love
With a perpetual configuration of melodious cacophonies
Rhythms that conquer the Julius in me ...
We're hiking along at a two-forty pace
We 're making life seem like a man-killing race,
With our nerves all on edge and our jaws firmly set
We go rushing along; with our brows lined with sweat
And our cheeks pale and drawn every minute we dash,
And the goal that we 're after is merely more cash.
We 're out for the money, the greenbacks and gold,
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