| across the southern hills
|
| we journey once again
|
| to travel thus has always been our way
|
| to winter in the south
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| and summer in the north
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| and so we traveled on another day
|
| for life lays out before us
|
| like a sparrow in the dawn
|
| when winter snows approach we move on
|
| little can we carry
|
| little do we own
|
| we live but for the mother’s gentle grace
|
| often do we toil
|
| but often life is sweet
|
| and when we go we leave without a trace
|
| for life lays out before us
|
| as we head towards the warm
|
| to live we must find shelter from the storm
|
| midway through the cross
|
| i heard her call my name
|
| and turned to see her rested by a tree
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| no further could she walk
|
| no more could we delay
|
| but as i stopped these words i heard her say
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| you must go on alone now
|
| you must walk with the free
|
| the western gate has opened now for me
|
| for life lays out before you
|
| as the raven beckons on
|
| my days are gone, now you must carry on
|
| many years have passed
|
| and my time now grows short
|
| the journey beckons harder every year
|
| i know the day will come
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| when i will be the one
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| who’s left behind by those who i hold dear
|
| and life will lay before them
|
| and life will carry on
|
| when my days are done they will carry on
|
| when the western gate has opened
|
| she will call me to her breast
|
| and it’s in my mother’s arms i will rest |