| Dress me in scarlet
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| Ribbons and bows so everyone knows
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| I’m hiding a face
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| That hasn’t the grace to go free
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| Dress me in shadows
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| Sad April skies have opened my eyes
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| To the lie that I live
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| And given the river away
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| I’ll change these clothes if I want to, and I do
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| I think that I’ve found out
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| What no-one's about to tell me
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| I think that I’ve found out
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| I don’t wear scarlet well
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| Waiting before me
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| Poets and painters may say;
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| «When will you stumble our way
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| Kick off your red shoes and fly now»
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| I’ll die for their words if I want to, and I do
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| Always before me
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| Poets and sages may say;
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| «We've been lamenting your fall
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| And carving it all into stone here
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| And skimming them into the river, just for you…»
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| I think that I’ve found out
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| What no-one's about to tell me
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| I think that I’ve found out
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| The place where angels fell from…
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| I think that I’ve found out
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| I don’t wear scarlet well |