| Take me down from the old windmill
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| Make for the south, I hear them still
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| Shake out the awakening I call to you
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| Why don’t you tell me you love me
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| Carry me awake through sleep and fog
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| Slip through cracks as language does
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| Broken like a book, and I call to you
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| Why don’t you tell me you love me
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| No, you go on ahead
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| 'Cause your companion sets my teeth on edge
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| My dear, do carry on
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| A thimble of faith from a faithless tongue
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| Gone in the morning and drowning in dark
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| Sick to the skin, and hollow heart
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| Body like a bag, and I call to you
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| Why don’t you tell me you love me
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| And if it’s a question of fiction, there’s nothing to face
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| I’m not the unknown religion, I’m nothing to face
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| I don’t want to fight, I don’t, don’t want to fight
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| I don’t want to fight, I don’t, don’t want to fight
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| Don’t want to fight
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| No.
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| You go on ahead
|
| 'Cause your companion sets my teeth on edge
|
| My dear, do carry on
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| A thimble of faith from a faithless tongue
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| My body’s burning
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| Saint
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| Saint
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| Saint |