| Long ago I heard a tale I never will forget
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| The time was in the telling on the bank the scene was set
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| The sky was rolling blindly on, the daylight had not gone
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| She washed her hair among the stones and saw what was to come
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| All this will pass
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| There will be blood among the corn and heroes in the hills
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| But there is more to come my boy before you’ve had your fill
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| Men will come and rape the soil as though it were their own
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| And they will bathe their feet in oil as I have bathed my own
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| All this will pass
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| All things must come
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| Just as I tell you here
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| Stones will stand together as if searching for the stars
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| And all come crashing down again before they reach too far
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| She turned to face the setting sun, I turned to walk away
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| But then she called my name again and beckoned me to stay
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| All this will pass
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| All things must come
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| Just as I tell you here
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| She told me of the famous sons who write their names in peace
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| Yet be cut down before the time has come for our release
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| Just as I tell you here
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| Even now I wait for the coming day
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| Even now she waits in the dawn
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| For the tales she tells, for the gifts that she will sell
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| For the sight she knows, for a vision that still grows
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| With the dream in her eyes no one’s seen
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| I listened for so long that day that I can hardly tell
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| If what she said was heaven sent or brought to bear in hell
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| That men of hope would stand alone and still be cast a lie
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| Just as Romans cast them on the day they were to die
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| All this will pass
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| All things must come
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| Just as I tell you here
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| Even now I wait for the coming day
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| Even now she waits in the dawn
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| For the tales she tells, for the gifts that she will sell
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| For the sight she knows, for a vision that still grows
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| With the dream in her eyes no one’s seen |