| In Late July — the sun is glowing
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| Far away seems all despair
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| And in the vales the corn is growing
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| With golden heads so bright and fair
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| The wind is tearing on my wings of steel
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| And sorrow fills my broken heart
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| I carry wounds that cannot heal
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| And you and I lie worlds apart
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| I like to see it when the birds are flying
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| Their carelessness I have to bear
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| And in their moves all weight denying
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| Escaping from the eagle’s stare
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| The wind is tearing on my wings of steel
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| And sorrow fills my broken heart
|
| I carry wounds that cannot heal
|
| And you and I lie worlds apart
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| And in the distance a stream is flowing
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| Dark waters run towards the sea
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| Against the storm small boats are rowing
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| The ocean is our retreat
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| The wind is tearing on my wings of steel
|
| And sorrow fills my broken heart
|
| I carry wounds that cannot heal
|
| And you and I lie worlds apart
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| Weariness like lingering poison
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| Where joy it used to be
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| Clouds are gathering around my prison
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| As far as the eye can see
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| The wind is tearing on my wings
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| And grief it fills my broken heart
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| I carry wounds of a thousand flames
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| And you and I lie worlds apart
|
| The wind is tearing on my wings of steel
|
| And sorrow fills my broken heart
|
| I carry wounds that cannot heal
|
| And you and I lie worlds apart |