| Long, long time ago, I knew a kingdom
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| Where everything was made of glass
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| The palace, their dreams, their hearts
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| But the most amazing thing was a nightingale
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| Small and unimposing
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| She lived down by the river
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| Her voice was beguiling
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| The king heard of her wonderful voice
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| And invited the nightingale to sing in the palace
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| She sang, the king was moved to tears
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| So he wanted her to stay and built a splendid cage for her
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| The cage was made of glass
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| The little bird sang and sang
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| But humans couldn’t get enough
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| Her voice got weaker with each day
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| Sad were her songs
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| They reminded her of freedom
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| And the wind she felt through her wings
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| In her dreams she was down by the river
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| In her dreams she was free
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| Her songs, laments of a better life
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| In time humans grew weary of her
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| She was forsaken
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| A relic of past times, awaiting the last breath
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| When dreams were made of glass
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| One day a child was standing in front of the cage
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| And touched her gently
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| The girl was pale and never before spoke a word
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| The girl opened the cage
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| But the nightingale was to weak to move her wings
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| The child gentle took the bird and brought her to the river
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| For one last time the nightingale saw the sun again
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| Then she closed her eyes
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| But when she died, a part became one with this child
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| The girl broke her silence
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| And sang beautiful songs
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| It seemed that the nightingale was singing through the child
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| From then on the child also knew of pain and sorrow
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| And sometimes her small heart
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| Which was made of glass
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| Was aching
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| Years later the girl became a woman
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| She fell in love and sang of joy and happiness
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| But one day their love ended and her heart
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| Which was made of glass
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| Broke |