| Raise me high, raise me high
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| That I may see my fallen kindred seated
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| Who met with death upon the battlefield
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| Who, in the end, fell and were defeated
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| And the way they were tricked by death
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| Betrayed, betrayed, leveled and mistreated
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| I’ve stuck a knife in a man for less
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| But Death is not so easily defeated
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| And you can pray, pray and pray for Life
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| But know my friend, my dearest friend, please know this
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| That Life is but Death’s own right-hand man
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| In every piece of his own left-hand business
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| So, arm in arm, we’ll run toward that pair
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| And, we as they, join them double-threaded
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| And, arms flung wide, we’ll run towards that pair
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| And never fear that which once we dreaded |