| Long before a boat anchored the harbor
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| Long before steel drums filled the breeze
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| God lifted these islands from the ocean
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| And they stood strong for centuries
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| So it’s fitting they were named after men with golden halos
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| 'Cause angels don’t give in just 'cause a little wind blows
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| We say we can when they say we can’t
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| See what it is when they see what it ain’t
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| With blood sweat and tears and a new coat of paint
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| We’re just a sinner’s choir singing a song for the saints
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| Whoa-oa-oa-oa-oh-oh
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| Whoa-oa-oa-oh
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| Whoa-oa-oa-oa-oh-oh
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| Whoa-oa-oa-oh
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| For the farmer in the field of sugar cane
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| For the drunkard in his hammock drying out after the rain
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| For the teacher in the classroom, kid kicking cans in the street
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| For the captain and his barmaid praying down on bended knee
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| We say we can when they say we can’t
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| See what it is when they see what it ain’t
|
| With blood sweat and tears and a new coat of paint
|
| We’re just a sinner’s choir singing a song for the saints
|
| Whoa-oa-oa-oa-oh-oh
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| Whoa-oa-oa-oh
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| Whoa-oa-oa-oa-oh-oh
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| Whoa-oa-oa-oh
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| This brokeness will heal
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| This weakness will be strong
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| Let’s lift our voice together
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| As the saints go marching on
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| We say we can when they say we can’t
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| See what it is when they see what it ain’t
|
| With blood sweat and tears and a new coat of paint
|
| We’re just a sinner’s choir singing a song for the…
|
| We say we can when they say we can’t
|
| See what it is when they see what it ain’t
|
| With blood sweat and tears and a new coat of paint
|
| We’re just a sinner’s choir singing a song for the saints
|
| Whoa-oa-oa-oa-oh-oh
|
| Whoa-oa-oa-oh
|
| Whoa-oa-oa-oa-oh-oh
|
| Whoa-oa-oa-oh
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| Whoa-oa-oa-oa-oh-oh
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| Whoa-oa-oa-oh |