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Outside my house is a cactus plant
They call the century tree
Only once in a hundred years
It flowers gracefully
And you never know when it will bloom

(Chorus:)
Hey, do you want to come out
And play the game
It's never too late
Hey, do you want to come out
And play the game
It's never too late

Clementine Hunter was fifty-four before she picked up her paintings?
Old Uncle Taylor was eighty-one when he rode his bike
Across the plains of China Uh huh
And the sun was shining on that day
Just like today

(Repeat Chorus)

Didn't know how to tell her for over thirty years
Kept locked up inside himself
No one saw the tears
Then she went away
And he woke up that day
So he went back to college at the age of sixty-three
Graduated with honors with an agriculture degree
And he joined up the Peace Corps at the age of sixty-nine
And he rode the grand rapids at the age of eighty-five
Now he brings roses to his sweetheart
She lives most anywhere
He sees someone suffering
He knows that despair
He offers them a rose
And some quiet prose
About dancing in a shimmering ballroom
Cause you never know when they will bloom
Outside my house is a cactus plant   They call the century tree   Only once in a hundred years   It flowers gracefully   And you never know when it will bloom      (Chorus:)   Hey, do you want to come out   And play the game   It's never too late   Hey, do you want to come out   And play the game   It's never too late      Clementine Hunter was fifty-four before she picked up her paintings?   Old Uncle Taylor was eighty-one when he rode his bike   Across the plains of China Uh huh   And the sun was shining on that day   Just like today      (Repeat Chorus)      Didn't know how to tell her for over thirty years   Kept locked up inside himself   No one saw the tears   Then she went away   And he woke up that day   So he went back to college at the age of sixty-three   Graduated with honors with an agriculture degree   And he joined up the Peace Corps at the age of sixty-nine   And he rode the grand rapids at the age of eighty-five   Now he brings roses to his sweetheart   She lives most anywhere   He sees someone suffering   He knows that despair   He offers them a rose   And some quiet prose   About dancing in a shimmering ballroom   Cause you never know when they will bloom