| There’s a lady, Spanish roses in her hair
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| And they cover the crown of thorns she wears
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| And the blood from her lips as she sings
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| Do it all for the glory of thee
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| And they carry her down, down, down
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| Down in the cold, cold, ground
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| By the river she used to pray
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| Forever now she will wait
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| For the king to come
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| And the boys who would crave her perfect skin
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| And she burned herself, she thought it would please him
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| And the iron chain spiked around her waist
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| And the poison that she used to hide her face
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| And they carry her down, down, down
|
| Down in the cold, cold, ground
|
| By the river she used to pray
|
| Forever now she will wait
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| For the king to come
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| And she made a bed of broken glass and stone
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| She slept at night to prove the faith was strong
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| And when her broken body finally gave
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| There grew Spanish roses by her grave
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| And they carry her down, down, down
|
| Down in the cold, cold, ground
|
| By the river she used to pray
|
| Forever now she will wait
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| For the king to come |