The line of traffic comes to a stand still
For the love King, out in the morning air
I find a place I started from
The wild is calling, this time I follow
Easter parade
In the bureau typewriter's quiet
Confetti falls from every window
Throwing hats up in the air
A city perfect in every detail
Easter parade
I know you, birthday cards and silent music
Paperbacks and Sunday clothes
In hallways and railway stations
Radio across the morning air
A crowd of people everywhere
And then the people, all running forward
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