| I dreamed that I saw you once down in Morocco
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| Your clothes were so old they were new
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| You spoke to the Bedouins in their own language
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| Of silver and crimson and blue
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| They said that your singing had altered their vision
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| And yet nothing really had changed
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| The dust from the desert rose up from your eyelids
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| You said you had conquered the chains
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| The white wind around us, as we stood there talking
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| Was blowing the stars from the sky
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| I said make all the beauty you did long ago
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| And the dervishes whirled while you cried
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| You said ‘Hold me against you, the weather is calling
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| My mind is the color of stone'
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| And I wrapped the green silk around your thin body
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| And knew you would never come home
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| The wind and the sun and the sky in your eyes
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| Was driving you mad I could see
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| And in any language I knew they were saying
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| The future was cutting us free
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| We walked in the desert, your hands were like velvet
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| You told me the reason you’d stayed
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| All of the women whose hearts had been broken
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| Stood naked and cool in the shade
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| The men in the village were called to their worship
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| Their colors had started to fade
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| The shelter of heaven had lifted forever
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| Their eyes turned the color of jade
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| The wind and the sun and the sky in your eyes
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| Was driving you mad I could see
|
| And in any language I knew they were saying
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| The future was cutting us free
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| I left to fly back to the place I was sleeping
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| Where all of my dreams had been lost
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| I wrote your name down on the back of a postcard
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| And finally I counted the cost
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| The demons and devils, the saints and the angels
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| Had gathered to show me the view
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| And all of the tears that had come when I met you
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| Were shining and bright as the dew
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| The wind and the sun and the sky in your eyes
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| Was driving you mad I could see
|
| And in any language I knew they were saying
|
| The future was cutting us free. |
| Free, free, free, free. |