| There’s a light in the kitchen
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| There’s a glass on the stand
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| Three women round the table
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| And they’re holding hands
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| They’re care taking the birthings
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| Bringing food when they can
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| They’re easin' the leavin'
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| And they’re holding hands
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| Love can get tangled
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| And jumbled sometimes
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| You can lose your way in this world
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| You can lose your mind
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| But there’s something love
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| In which I can depend
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| It’s the strength in women
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| Holding hands
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| The night can be dark
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| So dark and wild
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| And life burns like a diamond
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| It’s unbearably hard
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| But it’s sweeter than honesty
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| Right from the jar
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| Your eyes have the look
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| Of some different place
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| You’ve got one foot in heaven
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| And one still in this land
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| So we breathe it in deep
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| And we let it out slow
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| We’re holding up up
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| While you’re letting us go
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| There’s a free falling feeling
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| I’m lighter than air and home burns
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| Like a beacon in your eyes
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| But somehow we get anchored
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| Somehow we get by
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| Here’s to the women
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| Who bind the wounds tight
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| Here’s to the ones
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| Who sit talking half of the night
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| Here’s to the love
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| And the life that they mend
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| And here’s to the strength
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| In women holding hands
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| And here’s to the strength
|
| In women holding hands
|
| And here’s to the strength
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| In women holding hands |