All the stars are not in the sky,
come follow me and I'll tell you why.
Laurel to Topanga, the trees tell the breeze,
the stars are here among the bee's.
The Byrds are here, flying high, Crosby has
touched the sky.
When he wanted more, he made the score, had
lots of friends or so they say, wouldn't have it
any other way.
Don and Glen shared a street, it was where they retreat.
Writing songs, getting high, they did their best
I'll tell you why.
It was the canyon, away from the street, the spirit flies
in the minds eye.
It came to them, loud and strong, the bars, the notes,
Gibson's and goats.
The harmony that we see, the voices blend as it can be,
they sing together, it sounds like one, you are there
come join the fun.

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