| See the bracken green on the hills
|
| See the gifts of every summer
|
| Suns sinking low in the long grass
|
| Always rising and falling down
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| There’s bluebells growing under the trees
|
| And I will be there in June
|
| I will walk back down the river
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| To some unknown salvation
|
| Taking me back again
|
| Memories of the incomplete
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| The birch, the oak, the rowan
|
| And the accordions down in the hall
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| By the riverside
|
| As if God hadn’t happened at all
|
| Stealing heaven from a moon-lit door
|
| Taking me back down the railroad tracks
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| To get lost in it all
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| On young ploughed fields I kissed your eyes
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| A crown of songs around your head
|
| And by the railings at the harbor wall
|
| The radios played
|
| Never thought I could look upon
|
| Something so beautiful, so pure
|
| Brighter than sun on snow
|
| In some new enchanted garden
|
| She said we’ve been here before
|
| As the skies are slashed by flames
|
| Our citadels come crashing down
|
| A constant sea, a war of waves
|
| Lay down your life for me
|
| Lay down your love again
|
| We’ll talk it over
|
| And we’ll waken
|
| Like kings some day
|
| And the accordions played
|
| And the accordions played |