| We’re gonna built a home from stone instead of steel
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| Our love will make it real
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| It’s a cottage down the lane
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| We’ll fill the fireplace with logs and cracklin' sticks
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| We’ll lie nearby the bricks as we hear the drizzlin' rain
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| But till we build that home we’ll lock our bedroom door
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| Make plans and love within this one room, eight by four
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| I’ll never ask for much, I’ll only ask for more
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| And as all lovers do, I’ll turn and say to you
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| We are the last of the romantics
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| Reaching for love before we lose it to the past
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| For at the last we are romantic
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| Free from time and space
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| We can build a place where all that is romantic can last
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| So close your eyes and see my clearing in the trees
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| Your face will feel the breeze and the wind is laced with pine
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| The sun will rise to where the hills embrace the sky
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| A stream will wander by like a rolling ball of twine
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| You must believe I’ll make it real, I can’t say when
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| But harder times than this have been and even then
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| A million loves have lived and love lives on again
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| As long as there are two who say the way we do
|
| We are the last of the romantics
|
| Reaching for love before we lose it to the past
|
| For at the last we are romantic
|
| Free from time and space
|
| We can build a place where all that is romantic can last
|
| We are the last of the romantics
|
| Reaching for love before we lose it to the past
|
| For at the last we are romantic
|
| Free from time and space
|
| We can build a place where all that is romantic can last |