| Forgive me, master, if I hear
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| No rhyme in your glory old
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| As it was sung in the days of yore
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| Now we sing our own
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| You see, I got this dream
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| Of turning grey and having cleared off every plate
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| And to never look to tomorrow’s roads
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| To say they went too far today
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| To long to waken every soul
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| From the promises in store
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| From the peace that blinds them through the time
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| When they should have gone to war
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| Mother crying we forgot our kids
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| Father hold them through the rain
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| Let him please not take her away from me
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| And turn her to a slave
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| Of the dreams
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| Of the dreams
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| Of the dreams
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| The dreams of the morning
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| Let my nighttime on in
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| May the sirens do the shrugging
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| As we carry on a laughing
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| As we carry on a laughing all the way
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| May there always be this short old street
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| And water in your wells
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| And those that peddled handed
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| We’ll take the silver and run like hell!
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| May there always be rage in your heart
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| When the master brings the reins
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| To detest the thieves of our daughters and sons
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| And raise from the dead
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| Today, today, today
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| Hey
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| The dreams of the morning
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| Let my nighttime on in
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| May the devils come a crying
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| Carry me away a laughing
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| As we all go a laughing to story telling breaks
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| The dreams of the morning
|
| Let my nighttime on in
|
| May the devils come a-crying
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| Carry me away a-laughing
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| As we all go a-laughing to story telling breaks |