| Little orphans in the snow
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| With nowhere to call a home
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| Start their singing, singing
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| Waiting through the summer time
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| Before your heart’s in winter time
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| That’s why they’re singing, singing
|
| Waiting for a sign
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| To turn blood into wine
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| The sweet taste in your mouth
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| Turned bitter in its glass
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| Israel
|
| In Israel
|
| Israel
|
| In Israel
|
| Shattered fragments of the past
|
| Meet in veins on the stained glass
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| Like the lifeline in your palm
|
| Red and green reflects the scene
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| Of a long forgotten dream
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| There were princes and there were kings
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| Now hidden in disguise
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| Cheap wrappings of lies
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| Keep your hearts alive
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| With a song from inside
|
| Even though we’re all alone
|
| We are never on our own
|
| When we’re singing, singing
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| There’s a man who’s looking in
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| And he smiles a toothless grin
|
| Because he’s singing, singing
|
| See some people shine with glee
|
| But their song is jealousy
|
| Their hate is clanging, maddening
|
| In Israel
|
| Will they sing happy Noel?
|
| Israel
|
| In Israel
|
| Israel
|
| In Israel
|
| In Israel
|
| Will they sing happy Noel? |