| Look at the moon my love… the way it glimmers in the
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| night.
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| We are not the first nor the last basking in her light
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| Do you think she sees how your eyes when they look
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| certain then surprised, could make the coldest iceberg
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| melt.
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| Look at the moon my love… the way she whispers to a
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| star…
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| We are not the first nor the last to adore her from afar…
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| Do you think the moon understands the simple beauty of
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| your hands, when they are longing to be held…
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| Do you think she knows the language of our prayers?
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| Do you think she knows, or even cares?
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| Do you think she hears our names?
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| In her eyes we’re all the same …
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| From her cradle way above.
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| The moon sees only love…
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| Look at the moon my dear… at all the stories she can tell
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| We are not the first nor the last to fall under her spell…
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| Do you think she hears my heart, breaking the loneliness
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| apart, wishing my mouth could be as bold…
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| Do you think she knows the language of our prayers?
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| Do you think she knows, or even cares?
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| Do you think she hears our names?
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| In her eyes we’re all the same …
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| From her cradle way above.
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| The moon sees only love…
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| Look at the moon. |
| she knows.
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| That every moment something grows.
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| We are not the first nor the last, to trust her with our
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| woes.
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| I know the moon would rise,
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| if she could only see your eyes,
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| if she could understand the power they have over every
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| song I sing… |