| well I can’t be your father’s echo
|
| always three sheets set to sail into the storm
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| you keep spinning on your compass spoke
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| but you know my humble ship would keep you warm
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| so love I’d love to love you better
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| than every swain who left a shadow on your skin
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| I’ve been sleeping on your primrose path
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| so won’t you lift your garden gate and let me in?
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| come what come may
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| come what come may
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| you say you’re looking for redemption
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| still you don’t believe the tides can ever change
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| but if you’re sailing with your head turned back
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| you’ll never see my lonely lighthouse guide your way
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| so what’s the hurry with your dying
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| when every soul will someday settle in the ground
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| well you could slide into that volcano
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| but you know that I would follow you right down
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| come what come may
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| come what come…
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| I know you said the life you led would always come between
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| I don’t care, I don’t care
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| the hurricane is only rain, so once you’re feeling clean
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| I’ll be there, I’ll be there
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| come what come may
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| come what come may
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| and if you find a quiet meadow
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| will you stop to see who might be left behind?
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| no, you’ll be running from my open arms
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| but I’ll be lovin' you till the day I’m gonna die
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| come what come may
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| come what come may
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| come what come may
|
| come what come may |