| If I scatter your ashes both far and wide
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| Across our nations great and sacred divide
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| Forgotten churchyard to ancient temple ruin
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| Broken bended knee to prayer and absolution
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| Rusted weapons at this empty border post
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| To the bones that are scattered across this foreign coast
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| Dressed in rags and our spiritual riches
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| Could you heal our wounds within mother’s forgiveness?
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| Dressed in rags and our spiritual riches
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| Could you heal our wounds?
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| What beauty you reveal across the dreaded wire
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| Cheekbones of razor and eyes of defiant fire
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| Time stood still for the love we have proven
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| And this the vow of our heart’s destitution
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| As young men who never thought of growing old
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| The words that leave a sign of love untold
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| Dressed in rags and our spiritual riches
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| Could you heal our wounds within mother’s forgiveness?
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| Dressed in rags and our spiritual riches
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| Can you heal our wounds?
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| Can you heal our wounds?
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| Take my hands and heal these wounds
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| Mother won’t you bury your sons?
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| Oh, mother you bury your sons
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| Oh, mother you bury, you bury your sons
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| You will bury, your sons |