| They say the skies of Lebanon are burning
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| Those mighty cedars bleeding in the heat
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| They’re showing puctures on the television
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| Women and children dying in the street
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| Ant we’re still at it in our own place
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| Still trying to reach the future thru' the past
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| Still trying to care tomorrow from a tombstone
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| But hey! |
| Don’t listen to me!
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| Cos this wasn’t ment to be no sad song
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| We’ve heard to much of that before
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| Right now I only want to be here with you
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| Till the morning dew comes falling
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| I want to take you to the island
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| And trace your footprints in the sand
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| And in the evening when the sun goes down
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| We’ll make love to the sound of the ocean
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| They’re raising banners over by the markets
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| Whitewashing slogans on the shipyard walls
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| Witch doctors praying for a mighty showdown
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| No way our holy flag is gonna fall
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| Up here we scrifice our children
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| To feed the worn out dreams of yesterday
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| And teach them dying will lead us into glory
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| But hey! |
| Don’t listen …
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| Now I know us plain folks don’t see all the story
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| And I know this peace and love’s just copping out
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| And I guess these young boys dying in the ditches
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| Is just what being free is all about
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| And how this twisted wreckage down on Main Street
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| Will bring us all together in the end
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| And we’ll go marching down the road to freedome
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| Freedome |