| Watchman will you turn your head, and light your lamp for me
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| your cloak is filled with darkness, and the things I cannot see
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| beyond the morning watchtower where the fallen angels shine
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| sitting at the spinning wheels of time
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| I can hear beyond me through the breath of waking children
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| the sound of unreal laughter filling empty smiling glasses
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| and the victims of oppression, they are carried from the prison
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| of the world that knew them little, and could not hear their voices
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| and hate is lost and looking for a sign
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| caught up in the spinning wheels of time
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| I cannot see too clearly would you take me by the hand
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| a sky of blood is raining benediction on the land
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| a blade is softly sweeping and the blazing watchfire shines
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| sitting at the spinning wheels of time
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| time is slowly rising and the sound of pagan voices
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| fills the warm air with their singing and the wonder of their music
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| and the faces in the shadows of the chains that held them closely
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| in the darkness they are standing and no one really knows them
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| and hate is just a stranger left behind
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| caught up in the spinning wheels of time
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| my time is almost gone you say the sand is nearly run
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| my dream is slowly fading with the rising of the sun
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| beyond the morning watchtower where the fallen angels shine
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| Fading are the spinning wheels of time
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| fading are the spinning wheels of time
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| fading are the spinning wheels of time
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| fading are the spinning wheels of time |