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If upâs the word and the world grows greener,
Minute by second and most by more.
If death is the loser and life is the winner,
And beggars are rich, but minstrels are poor.
Letâs touch the sky,
With a to and a fro and a hit there, where
And away we go.
And even the laziest creature among us
A wisdom no knowledge can kill is astray.
Now dull eyes are keen and now keen eyes are keener.
For young is the year, for young is the year.
Letâs touch the sky,
With a great and a gay and this deep, deep rush
Through amazing time.
Itâs brains without hearts have set saint against the sinner
But the gain over gladness and joy and no care.
Letâs do as an Earth which can never do wrong, does
Minute by second and most by more.
Letâs touch the sky,
With a strange and a true and a climbing for
And to far near blue.
If beggars are rich and the robin will sing
Heâs robbing the song, but minstrels are poor.
Letâs love until no one could quite be
An young as the year is
As living as Iâm and as you.
Letâs touch the sky,
With a you and a me and an every whoâs any,
Whoâs someone, whoâs who.