| I hung out with the old folks, in the hope that I’d get wise.
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| I was trying to bridge the gap, between the great divide.
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| Hung on every recollection, in the theater of their eyes
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| Picking up on this and that, in the few that still survive.
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| Call em up Dust em off
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| Let em shine
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| The ones who hold onto the the ones, they had to leave behind
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| Those that flew, those that fell,
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| The ones that had to stay
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| Beneath a little wooden cross
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| Oceans away
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| They bend like trees in winter, these shuffling old gray lions
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| Though snow white start to gather, like the belt around Orion.
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| Just a touch of faded lightning, of the powerful design,
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| Of the generation gathered, for maybe the last time.
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| Call em up Dust em off
|
| Let em shine
|
| The ones who hold onto the the ones, they had to leave behind
|
| Those that flew, those that fell,
|
| The ones that had to stay
|
| Beneath a little wooden cross
|
| Oceans away
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| Oceans away where the green grass sways and the cool wind blows across the
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| shadow of their graves.
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| shoulder to shoulder, back in the day, sleeping bones to rest in Earth
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| Oceans away
|
| Oceans away
|
| Call em up Dust em off
|
| Let em shine
|
| The ones who hold onto the the ones, they had to leave behind
|
| Those that flew, those that fell,
|
| The ones that had to stay
|
| Beneath a little wooden cross
|
| Oceans away
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| (Grazie a Claudia IV per questo testo) |