| Go to sleep my babies
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| Don’t you wake up
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| The stars will keep you company
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| So close your eyes
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| Old Uncle Moon will shine his dearest sweetest dreams
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| And hold you in your arms
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| Until the morning comes.
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| Dark the night, not a sound
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| Damp and cold, frosty ground
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| Above your head the lion screams
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| To tear you from your moonlit dreams.
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| Damp with sweat, mouth is dry
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| Twisted branches catch the eye
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| Beside your bed the angel stands
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| You cannot touch his withered hands.
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| As the lion’s eyes dance before me
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| They are kindly yet bloody red
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| I can see that he is smiling
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| But I cannot live inside his head.
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| There the needle stands before me
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| I climb inside it towards the light
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| Where the angel stands in glory
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| His sword of peace defends the night.
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| So the world is spread before
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| As I fly high on angel wings
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| But the angel is deceiving
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| For he is weeping as he sings.
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| Early birds, morning breeze
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| Spinning leaves, sleepy trees
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| Gently tap the window pane
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| It’s good to see the sun again. |