| They’re this band called the Crimson Kings
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| Come from a-Carolina, Tennessee
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| Make our stand across wild strings
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| Old dreadnoughts and drop-down D’s
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| Our roots run deep, true and tough
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| As the tree of life mandolin
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| We don’t flinch, oh and we don’t bluff
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| For our hearts have been kissed by every wind
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| There are some who can arise above my fate
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| Others just can’t seem to pray
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| Then there are those that are condemned by the gods to write
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| They sparkle and they fade away
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| Now we’ll run, we’re the reckless kind
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| But we have not turned our backs on the savior choir
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| See each life, all center-twined
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| So we’ve come together for the wheels on fire
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| Now some don’t know that they are blessed
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| Perhaps this is what gives us our means
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| Well I might be wrong, oh, nevertheless
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| Sweet mother of pearl, say a prayer for a Crimson King
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| There are some who can arise above my fate
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| Others just can’t seem to pray
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| Then there are those that are condemned by the gods to write
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| They sparkle and they fade away
|
| There are some who can arise above my fate
|
| Others just can’t seem to pray
|
| Then there are those that are condemned by the gods to write
|
| They sparkle and they fade away
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| Sparkle and they fade away
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| Sparkle and they fade away |