| I saw a girl who’d found her consolation
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| She said «One day my Prince of Peace will come»
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| Above her head a portrait of her father
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| The wilted favour that he gave her still fastened to the frame
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| «They've got his bones and everything he owns
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| I’ve got his name»
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| Well you can laugh at this sentimental story
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| But in time you’ll have to make amends
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| The sudden chill where lovers doubt their immortality
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| As the clouds cover the sky the evening ends
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| Describing a picture of eyes finally closing
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| As you sometimes glimpse terrible faces in the fire
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| Well, I’m the lucky goon
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| Who composed this tune
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| From birds arranged on the high wire
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| Who on earth is tapping at the window?
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| Does that face still linger at the pane?
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| I saw you shiver though the room was like a furnace
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| A shadow of regret across a young mother’s face
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| So toll the bell or rock the cradle
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| Please don’t let me fear anything I cannot explain
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| I can’t believe, I’ll never believe in anything again |