| Bring back my eldest
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| Before my heart is withered
|
| He’s a fighter and a winner
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| A falling legend in the mirror
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| He will spoil the hungry beast
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| Till the flag is raised and the fire is ceased
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| He’ll sway and sway until he’s creased
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| And saved before the senior priest
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| Like a rebel
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| Bring back my second
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| For he is left handed
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| He don’t know the rule of thumb
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| The artillery, the rolling drum
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| Crafted for the right hand wrist
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| Of the worthy knights with their clenching fist
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| Not for my boy whose callow lips
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| Have never yet been truly kissed
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| By a lover
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| Bring back my third
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| Before his skin is burnt
|
| He lives inside an ancient soul
|
| Deep in the mist of rock and roll
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| Oh love will be his deadly sin
|
| When the ships arrive and it’s time to spin
|
| The heavy swords from the eastern winds
|
| In the holy name of the king of kings
|
| Like a promise
|
| Bring back my youngest
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| Before his eyes have seen
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| Before his youth will go to waste
|
| Don’t give him any truth to taste
|
| I want him riding back to me
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| On the sandy shores of the southern sea
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| Green and unspoiled as a child can be
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| With open arms calling liberty
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| Like his father |