Music: Where do the Children Play - by Cat Stevens

Well, I think it's fine
Buildin' jumbo planes
Or takin' a ride
On a cosmic train.
Switch on summer
From a slot machine.
Yes, get what you want to, if you want,
'Cause you can get anything.

[Chorus]
I know we've come a long way.
We're changin' day to day,
But tell me, where do the children play?

Well, you roll on roads
Over fresh green grass
For your lorry loads
Pumpin' petrol gas
And you make them long
And you make them tough,
But they just go on and on, and it seems
That you can't get off.

[Chorus]

Well, you've cracked the sky.
'Scrapers fill the air,
But will you keep on buildin' higher
'Til there's no more room up there?
Will you make us laugh?
Will you make us cry?
Will you tell us when to live?
Will you tell us when to die?

[Chorus]

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How privileged is he who composes the music of his life, to be played at his own funeral. It is a pity that we do not know that we are all composers in secret and that we each write our own cadences and requiems.

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