| Blessed are the one way ticket holders
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| On a one way street.
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| Blessed are the midnight riders
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| For in the shadow of God they sleep.
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| Blessed are the huddled hikers
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| Staring out at falling rain,
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| Wondering at the retribution
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| In their personal acquaintance with pain.
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| Blessed are the blood relations
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| Of the young ones who have died,
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| Who had not the time or patience
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| To carry on this earthly ride.
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| Rain will come and winds will blow,
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| Wild deer die in the mountain snow.
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| Birds will beat at heaven’s wall,
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| What comes to one must come to us all.
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| For you and I are one way ticket holders
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| On a one way street.
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| Which lies across a golden valley
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| Where the waters of joy and hope run deep.
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| So if you pass the parents weeping
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| Of the young ones who have died,
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| Take them to your warmth and keeping
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| For blessed are the tears they cried
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| And many were the years they tried.
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| Take them to that valley wide
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| And let their souls be pacified. |