| Just step in madonna, madonnas
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| And get in madonna, madonnas
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| All the patient horses are waiting
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| With their hoofs above ground they are hanging
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| And the carriages are restless
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| Everyone is painted matching all the horses
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| Looking like the colors of the ceiling
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| Of the oak tree, of a carrot
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| A stir from madonnas
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| A stampede of hundreds
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| Bolting off their hoofs
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| Circling in fire in their roped-in cages
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| Once they were of games
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| And throughout every dancehall
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| With a will of vigor, burning flowers
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| And in each carriage arm and arm
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| Madonna and madonna
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| From childhood bent up
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| She is stuck inside an unchanging time
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| White horses carriage
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| Black horses carriage
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| Red horses carriage
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| Magnificent!
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| Just as a gift for the
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| Complicated eras that are too sad
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| Everyday on Sundays
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| Working for the midnight holy masses
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| And in each carriage arm and arm
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| Madonna and madonna
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| And no one knows which is asleep
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| And which one is inspired
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| White horses carriage, black horses carriage
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| Red horses carriage, magnificent! |