| Silver winged, broken English, boys they smoke
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| Talk and joke above the water
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| New York lady, holding in her heavy hand
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| Sacred lantern, guiding dawn
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| Quit all that, quit all that, quit all that looking back
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| Quit all that, quit all that, quit all that
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| Quit all that, quit all that, quit all that looking back
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| Quit all that, quit all that, quit all that
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| Casting glances backwards, but it’s not your fault
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| Turned to salt for wondering
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| In your braids and heavy pages, we were folded
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| Kiss the cold and dirty ground
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| Quit all that, quit all that, quit all that looking back
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| Quit all that, quit all that, quit all that
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| Quit all that, quit all that, quit all that looking back
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| Quit all that, quit all that, quit all that
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| Seasons wake with sleeping birds now flying south
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| Covered mouth, we watch in awe
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| Fallen pines to shape the skyline, take me there
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| Beneath the barren colored moon
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| (Quit all that, quit all that, quit all that looking back
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| Quit all that, quit all that, quit all that)
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| Greeting all the masses
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| From their teeming shores
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| She was born with open hands
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| (Her color, color, color is coming back
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| Color, color, color)
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| Quit all that, quit all that, quit all that looking back
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| Quit all that, quit all that, quit all that looking back
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| Quit all that, quit all that, quit all that looking back
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| Quit all that, quit all that, quit all that looking back
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| Quit all that, quit all that, quit all that looking back
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| Mmmm, mmmm |