| A grey day in February
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| Some flecks of white, but mostly brown
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| Purple surprises riding in on a nerve
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| Begins to excite you before it settles down
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| It’s after the knives and the sutures and needles
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| I’m left with an arrow that points at my heart
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| I call it the seat of my sentimental sorrow
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| Gone seems to be one of the sum of my parts
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| And the night is cold
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| As the coldest nights are
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| There’s a wise woman
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| She comes from an evening star
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| She says: Look for the signs
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| You won’t have to look far
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| Lead with your spirit and follow
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| Follow your scar
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| A man I knew once said he wanted to see me
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| I said I’d been sick but was on the mend
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| I told him a few of the overall details
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| He said: That’s too bad
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| And he’s never called me again
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| What a gift in disguise that poor little puppy
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| So scared of misfortune and always on guard
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| A big man will love you
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| Even more when you’re hurtin'
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| And a really big man
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| Loves a really good scar
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| Cause the dawn breaks
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| And it’s breaking your heart
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| There’s a wise woman
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| She sits at the end of the bar
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| She says: Look for the signs
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| You won’t have to look far
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| Lead with your spirit and follow
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| Follow your scar
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| A grey day in February
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| Some flecks of white, but mostly brown
|
| The world has tilted but
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| The world has expanded
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| And the world has turned
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| My world upside down
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| Cause the night is warm and all full of stars
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| There’s a wise woman
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| She’s moved right into my heart
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| She says: Look for the signs
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| You won’t have to look far
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| Lead with your spirit and follow
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| Follow
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| Follow your scar
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| English translation of Gaelic:
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| Run with the red deer
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| And sing with the wind
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| The magic lasts
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| And meaning will follow
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| The scar is God given
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| As a sign for your life
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| Strength from your ancestors
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| And through your own mouth
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| Strength from memory
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| Like a tree on the wind
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| Show me your scar
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| And I will make it better |