| On a river of sighs
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| A boat came towards me
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| A flimsy disguise
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| Covered the devil
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| Who sang from a songsheet
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| Of how modern life’s a bore
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| In his choirboys' attire
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| He sang me the life to which
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| Good girls aspire
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| Where men in white coats
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| Give us pills to tame the horses that stamp on our floors
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| And pills for when the horses have bolted out the door
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| It’s hard to explain
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| I don’t like hanging on to reins in my hands all the time
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| I’m running out of trails
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| Worn paths don’t lead to where I need to get to every time
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| She moves in secret ways
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| And there is grace and poised perfection when she takes the helm
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| She moves in secret ways
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| Now the house is on fire
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| The rats are all screaming
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| The horses are tired
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| They think they’re still dreaming
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| 'Cause the barn doors are open
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| The crossbar is hanging in the wind
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| So the devils sings higher
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| «Oh just look at what you’re doing!»
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| Yeah, he’s joined by a choir
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| Of doctors and statesmen Who plan their sorry lives
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| To the last day’s end
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| But look at all the happy things that happen by accident
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| It’s hard to explain
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| I don’t like hanging on to reins in my hands all the time
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| I’m running out of trails
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| Worn paths don’t lead to where I need to get to every time
|
| She moves in secret ways
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| And there is grace and poised perfection when she takes the helm
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| She moves in secret
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| Days gone by I thought I had it all
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| Filed in little boxes
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| Now I find I never had control
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| I just took little chances and won
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| Now the devil’s downstream
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| He’s singing to someone
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| My horses are free
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| They answer to no-one
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| Unbridled, untethered
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| They roam on the unmarked land
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| In my house there’s a calm
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| A peace has descended
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| No need for alarm
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| It’s as she intended
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| I’m through with trying to fight the things I don’t understand
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| Accept my sweet surrender to the greater, better plan
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| It’s hard to explain
|
| I don’t like hanging on to reins in my hands all the time
|
| I’m running out of trails
|
| Worn paths don’t lead to where I need to get to every time
|
| She moves in secret ways
|
| And there is grace and poised perfection when she takes the helm
|
| She moves in secret ways
|
| She moves in secret ways
|
| She moves in secret ways |