| Listen to the birds on the wire as they sing
|
| Listen to the beautiful choir of sad clipped wings
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| They long for spring like a change in the weather
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| To heal and repair every broken feather
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| Listen to the birds on the wire as they sing
|
| Hear the sound of warm blooded horses as they flee
|
| Wild and blackened bodies between the forest trees
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| They run in freedom with tireless power
|
| Run till the sunrise, the first born hour
|
| Hear the sound of warm blooded horses as they flee
|
| They run in freedom with tireless power
|
| Run till the sunrise, the first born hour
|
| Hear the sound of warm blooded horses as they flee |