| Born and set for the river
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| With an oath to carry our old
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| We will follow their sound and never be heard
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| And always steer clear of the road
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| What will we do with the bodies?
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| What will we do with the bodies?
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| What will we do with the bodies?
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| We’ll be rolling down the river
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| Rolling down the river
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| Soil and clay in dredges
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| And we’ll never find the ring
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| Somber and blind we lowered the vice
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| But what can we see anyway?
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| What will we do with the bodies?
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| What will we do with the bodies?
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| What will we do with the bodies?
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| We’ll be rolling down the river
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| Rolling down the river
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| To the sea unsaid we departed
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| That oath now carries us on
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| We will fall in to sounds and inlets abound
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| Where a sorrow resides in each cove
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| Cracked ice and leaves fallen, boom
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| We hit a stone, we’re riverbound
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| Light fires to the ties
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| We’ve left for home, all that is gone
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| Shining light, horizon
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| Deliver us alive and whole
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| Blinding bright, harvest songs
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| We’ll miss you all, we’ll miss you
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| We’re soil and clay under bridges
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| For we’ve never found the ring |