| Through rolling hills,
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| and many miles of blood
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| We slept in the rain, falling;
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| marched through the mud.
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| And you were not like anyone I’d known.
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| You spoke with impunity,
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| had nothing to atone.
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| In quiet evnings, you’d tell me what you thought about:
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| Servants and kings and how everyone is bought,
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| and that no one’s hands are bloodier than God’s,
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| and that I won’t be judged for doing as I ought.
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| It’s hard to say just when I fell in love.
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| There was no epiphany,
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| no light from above.
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| But you’d become my candle in the dark,
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| and all through the hell you were a shield across my heart.
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| When all was fire
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| and the weather out for blood,
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| and the boys, still too young to drink,
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| were drowned in the flood.
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| I’d hear you laughing,
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| it was like coming up for air.
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| And I’d laugh with you, pretending not to care.
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| Not many years have passed since the last time I saw you.
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| When I kissed you on the mouth, you walked away.
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| I knew it would be too much; |
| I knew that it would scare you.
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| But I couldn’t find the proper words for what I had to say.
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| But I don’t regret a thing. |