| There’s a cross above the baby’s bed,
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| A Saviour in her dreams.
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| But she was not delivered then,
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| And the baby became me.
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| There’s a light inside the darkened room,
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| A footstep on the stair.
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| A door that I forever close,
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| To leave those memories there.
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| So when the shadows link them,
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| Into an evening sun.
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| Well first there’s summer, then I’ll let you in.
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| September when it comes.
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| I plan to crawl outside these walls,
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| Close my eyes and see.
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| And fall into the heart and arms,
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| Of those who wait for me.
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| I cannot move a mountain now;
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| I can no longer run.
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| I cannot be who I was then:
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| In a way, I never was.
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| I watch the clouds go sailing;
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| I watch the clock and sun.
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| Oh, I watch myself, depending on,
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| September when it comes.
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| So when the shadows link them,
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| And burn away the clouds.
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| They will fly me, like an angel,
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| To a place where I can rest.
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| When this begins, I’ll let you know,
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| September when it comes. |