"I dreamed that I had died, And gone to my reward,
A job in heaven's textile plant, On a golden boulevard.
The mill was made of marble, The machines were made of gold,
And nobody ever got tired, And nobody ever grew old."
From The Mill Was Made Of Marble
A job in heaven's textile plant, On a golden boulevard.
The mill was made of marble, The machines were made of gold,
And nobody ever got tired, And nobody ever grew old."
From The Mill Was Made Of Marble
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