| This is the story of a man, Who conquered life drink in hand
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| Ship unmanned.
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| Marked by genius, channelled good, By some a bit misunderstood.
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| They’d been wrong many times before
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| Some times our saints are sinners,
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| They blur the lines and lead the way,
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| Their Way.
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| Raise hell and a glass in reverence,
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| The fearless lives of our great saints — our saints.
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| Never a stranger to late night snake bite fist fights and empty pints,
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| Unrivaled heights.
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| He led with songs, they sang along, created bonds that held so strong
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| Some were right and some were wrong
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| Some times our saints are sinners,
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| They blur the lines and lead the way,
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| Their Way.
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| Raise hell and a glass in reverence,
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| The fearless lives of our great saints — our saints.
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| (Solo)
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| It’s by the sea and at nights end that’s when the sin and swill begin
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| That’s when he had that certain light inside his head
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| For every whisper he would scream for every drought he shared a drink
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| For every sorrow there is a light from our St. James
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| On the sea by the cliff he watches, he waits the night to see
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| The day — his way
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| Last call will find us all
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| But there’s a light that leads the way, our way.
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| Some times our saints are sinners,
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| They blur the lines and lead the way,
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| Their Way.
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| Raise hell and a glass in reverence,
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| The fearless lives of our great saints — our saints.
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| (Grazie a Loredana per questo testo) |