| She had four white stallions coming around the bend,
|
| Four strong angels at her command ascend,
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| Four more seasons for all that’s broken to mend.
|
| And I got four good reasons, why I,
|
| Can’t go back there again.
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| She had skin like a statue, milky white and pure,
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| Carved by an artist, whose hand is demure,
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| Got a mind like a sabre, razor sharp and sure.
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| And god how I hate myself for,
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| Still wanting her.
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| Damn these nights of dreaming, vision soft and sure,
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| Now I’ll wait to find there’s nothing left of me and her,
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| Nothing more than a heart still at war.
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| She had four white stallions coming up around the bend,
|
| Four strong angels, already sent.
|
| Four more seasons for all that’s broken to mend.
|
| I got four good reasons why I,
|
| Can’t go back there again.
|
| Yeah, I got four good reasons why I,
|
| Can’t go back there again.
|
| And I got four more seasons for all,
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| That’s broken to mend. |