| In a house
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| On an island
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| There’s a tale that must be told
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| Of our mysterious Misty Mountains
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| Behind all the songs I wrote
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| Lives an old man in his shadow
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| And they’re whistling day and night
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| For whatever whatever its worth for
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| They are whistling for you and I On a ranch in the wildness
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| There’s a song that must be sung
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| About a blindfolded angel
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| Who never learned the right from wrong
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| And though I don’t know enough English
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| To describe it’s troubled mind
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| But for one thing I am certain
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| Is that it sings for you and I And I tried so hard to figuring out
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| But I guess I’m only human
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| I’ve been watching him drawing him
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| Analysing him in every way
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| I could possible think of But does not really help me You got to sit back and enjoy
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| You know Ochrasy raised and betrayed him
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| Now he sits there all alone
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| With his soul and his legend and his epic melodies
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| They are with us when we crying
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| And they are with us when we bleed
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| Yes they are with us when we crying
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| And they are with us when we bleed |