| No peace on Earth yet before the dawn
|
| One hundred priests say a prayer
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| In expectation, they stand withdrawn
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| And all their promises laid bare
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| Now on a Monday, bright early morning
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| They run for the only train
|
| Then every bell that ever rang
|
| On England’s warm sunny days
|
| And every bird that ever sang
|
| And every brass band that played
|
| The sound of kids on village greens
|
| The giant horse caravan
|
| The market stalls and steam machines
|
| Would stir the heart of every man
|
| Between the pages wild flowers were pressed
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| Until one day they’d be found
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| No explanation, they’d all been blessed
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| And then it all came around
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| Time and the jealous eyes will be looking
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| Back to a better place
|
| When every door’s laid open wide
|
| It’s not so rich but it’s true
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| That anyone can step inside
|
| It’s been so long overdue
|
| This fairytale will draw you near
|
| And give you back the age of man
|
| A shining star, the last frontier
|
| Will take you back where you began
|
| Going somewhere
|
| I’ll keep waiting so long
|
| Then every bell that ever rang
|
| On England’s warm sunny days
|
| And every bird that ever sang
|
| And every brass band that played
|
| The sound of kids on village greens
|
| The giant horse caravan
|
| The market stalls and steam machines
|
| Would stir the heart of every man |