| Again tonight I sang a song, a prayer if you will
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| Fell to the floor on blackened knees, and all the trees fell still
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| Press my hands between my bare knees, and poured in some milk
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| Begged the thunder bolts to strike and mark me as alive
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| All of the lilies on the hill
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| All of the lilies on the hill
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| All of the lilies on the hill
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| Scented the light
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| And so I finished up my prayer, rose slowly and I stared
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| But I was empty as a grave and ghost less was the end
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| Laid back to bed and dove my eyes and searched those further skies
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| Again begged the thunder bolt to strike to mark me or else I will die
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| All of the lilies on the hill
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| All of the lilies on the hill
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| All of the lilies on the hill
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| Scented the night
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| Any second before I sleep
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| Any second before I sleep
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| Did I believe what I did see?
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| Did I believe what came to me?
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| Appeared a figure of a man, waving upon the hill
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| To the window I ran and saw what he had sent
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| Children of a private world, to beacons conceived in milk
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| Hundred marching to my door of bringing dreams to drink
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| Thank God I’m alive!
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| Thank God I’m alive!
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| All of the lilies on the hill
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| All of the lilies on the hill
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| All of the lilies on the hill
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| Scented the night |