| The sea beneath the cliff is the blue in my mother’s eyes
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| That came from blue in her mother’s eyes
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| Thrown on down the line
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| By our family who worked the field on borrowed land above the ocean
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| My family worked the field on borrowed land
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| Higher hills do not provide for hearts born of coral and moss
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| Where rain won’t flow beyond the stream, and water is captive to the well
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| There was a gentle man; |
| I’ve always known his children’s songs
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| Blue eyes were hardened by the war, but still he went on singing
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| Night can’t hide a man when his eyes are tearing
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| The night can’t hide his cries: «There's only a few of us left»
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| Higher hills do not provide for hearts born of coral and moss
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| Where rain won’t flow beyond the stream, and water is captive to the well
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| I’ve known that age old blue: eyes and homes with siren’s tunes
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| Has left a deep desire for a home beside the water
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| Shady rhythm calms the night, and that voice is never still
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| You know a voice is never still, and a voice is never silent
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| Higher hills do not provide for hearts born of coral and moss
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| Where rain won’t flow beyond the stream, and water is captive to the well |