| We’ve got a long way to go
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| Before we finish our patrol
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| Light burns off in the distance
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| No one dares make a sound
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| Scared we might wake the snow
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| Sleeping giants love to listen
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| And tethered together by lines of gold
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| Two of my brothers on patrol
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| Our breathing keeps us in rhythm
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| Well honey I know it’s getting cold
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| Eye on the wool cape you have wove
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| I can smell your lavender and lipstick
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| You would never, ask me when I’m coming home
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| You know better, than to wait and watch the snow
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| While the other wives and mothers pray and count their rosaries
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| Not my lover, her lipstick lavender keeps her close to me
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| One, Two
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| One, Two, Three, Four
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| Hold me close as the hour escapes
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| Sunlight running on the mountain’s ravenous face
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| The moon came too soon and it’ll stay out too late
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| And I can feel that goddamn bell before they ring it
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| Gold heats in your hair promptly at 4 p.m.
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| Then cool to amber as the sun sets again
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| The light through the blinds paints patterns on skin
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| Your head dovetails so nicely on my chest where you laid it
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| When I’m out in the shop, faced to the forge
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| I think of you, my love, as I tend to the coals
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| Smiths with flames high in their eyes are all for show
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| Dreaming, lying to themselves that they’ve battled Hades
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| A fire’s that’s good take patience, control
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| Even bellow breathing this work is painfully slow
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| But you must hold on because you’ll taste the reward
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| When that white iron draws out, just like it was painted
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| I know you know this, but I tell you this time
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| Because I need to say it out loud to feel right
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| You listen to me whisper it, my lips graze you ear with every line
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| And you memorize every word, just as I say it
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| Press into me, leave marks in my side
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| And I promise to pull you in until my knuckles go white
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| You’re breathing with me now as the sun slips behind the mountain ridge to the
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| west
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| And the day is finished |