| There’s a tunnel burrowed underneath
|
| This white-faced wasteland
|
| There’s a woman in that ancient tree
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| The one that history
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| Keeps reminding me to think upon again
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| There’s a blossom tumbling on the wind
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| And a watchman at the gate
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| He’s busy polishing his gun again
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| A gift the devil sent
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| With a note that told him war is worth the wait
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| War is worth the wait
|
| War is worth the wait
|
| There was a dark cloud over Chilton
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| All the horses were asleep
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| I didn’t startle when a shot rang out
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| But I heard someone shout
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| My kingdom, my kingdom for a preach
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| Thre were vulturs circling overhead
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| A shadow crosses on the moon
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| There wasn’t time enough to morn the dead
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| So we chose instead
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| To leave a note that read we’re here and gone too soon
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| Here and gone too soon
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| Here and gone too soon
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| It doesn’t matter how you color things
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| It doesn’t matter what you say
|
| There’s a truth with no alternative
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| So don’t pretend to live
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| As if it’s yours to give and take away
|
| There’s a blossom buried underneath
|
| This concrete wasteland
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| My heart is broken but before I leave
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| I’ll write a note that reads
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| Be patient please, love is worth the wait
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| Love is worth the wait
|
| Love is worth the wait
|
| Love is worth the wait
|
| Love is worth the wait
|
| Love is worth the wait
|
| Love is worth the wait
|
| Love is worth the wait
|
| Love is worth the wait
|
| Love is worth the wait
|
| Love is worth the wait |