| From the golden brow of a morning hill
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| The shadows rise in the early still
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| The earth is cracked and the dust is cold
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| The embers glow and the fire is old
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| Mountains in the sky, lightning cracks the night
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| Shivering in the cold till the morning light
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| I know this time around, I’m travelling on holy ground
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| I’ve robbed the ghosts, I’ve heard the sound
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| So I ride on into the sun
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| With the shadows of the deeds that were done
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| I can’t imagine what it was to be alive
|
| The magic is still in the hills
|
| Watch the fire child grow
|
| Watch the fire child grow
|
| Riding on the wind, burning through your heart
|
| The parliament indian mission slowly rips apart
|
| Promises made, then willows laid
|
| And the world was thrown from the barrel of a gun
|
| So I ride on into the sun
|
| With the shadows of the deeds that were done
|
| I can’t imagine what it was to be alive
|
| The magic is still in the hills
|
| Watch the fire child grow
|
| Watch the fire child grow
|
| Watch the fire child grow
|
| Watch the fire child grow
|
| Watch the fire child grow
|
| Watch the fire child grow
|
| Watch the fire child grow
|
| Watch the fire child grow
|
| So I ride on into the sun
|
| With the shadows of the deeds that were done
|
| I can’t imagine what it was to be alive
|
| The magic is still in the hills
|
| The magic is still in the hills
|
| The magic is still in the hills
|
| The magic is still in the hills
|
| The magic is still in the hills |