| This is the progress of love that I fear
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| You retreat just as my defeat finally nears
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| What’s only to lose, myself I volunteer
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| So all of your spoils could be mine
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| Life takes root in the deepest dark ground
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| Where bones blood and honor have been trampled down
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| And beaten like ponies and driven to town
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| Where reason is traded for rhyme
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| Your sailor is my lawyer
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| Your seamstress suits my king
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| But you are the mouth of the river
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| The star of my every dream
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| Some young punk cut a wire, the sun fell in the yard
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| We gathered round it, and we kicked it hard
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| We passed around flowers and wine and we cried oh Lord
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| Now here comes the night
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| Our every word now we talk in blues
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| A hymn to the life we’re all bound to lose
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| We’d die for more but we still refuse
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| To live without a fight
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| Your sailor is my lawyer
|
| Your seamstress suits my king
|
| But you are the mouth of the river
|
| At the start of my every dream
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| We say «never forget"and mean «never forgive»
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| No, never as long as ever we live
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| It offends all our dead to surrender this
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| To even think we might go on
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| And freedom doesn’t need to be free when it sells
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| Like ocean waves offered from inside of shells
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| We bet the farm trying to ring its bells
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| While love still goes for a song
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| Your sailor is my lawyer
|
| Your seamstress suits my king
|
| But you are the mouth of the river
|
| At the start of my every dream |