| The sea beneath the cliff
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| Is the blue in my mother’s eyes
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| That came from the 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
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| 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
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| For hearts born of coral and moss
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| Where rain won’t flow beyond our stream
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| And water is captive to the well
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| There was a gentleman
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| I’ve always known his children’s songs
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| Blue eyes were hardened by the war
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| But still he went on singing
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| Night can’t hide a man
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| When his eyes are tearing
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| The night can’t hide his cries
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| There’s only a few of us left
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| Higher hills do not provide
|
| For hearts born of coral and moss
|
| Where rain won’t flow beyond our stream
|
| And water is captive to the well
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| I’ve known that age old blue
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| Lies in home with sirens tombs
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| He’s left a deep desire
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| For a home beside the water
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| Shady rhythm calms the night
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| And that voice is never still
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| You know a voice is never still
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| And a voice is never silent
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| Shady rhythm calms the night
|
| And that voice is never still
|
| You know a voice is never still
|
| And a voice is never silent
|
| Higher hills do not provide
|
| For hearts born of coral and moss
|
| Where rain won’t flow beyond our stream
|
| And water is captive to the well |