| Oh hail Mary, full of death
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| Sing me a bitter song
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| As dark as the day is long
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| And as black as your eyes are wild
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| While the hail from the blackened cloud is raking the firmament
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| Destroying our argument
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| About the temperature and the time
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| Wild and unbroken
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| We lay like a wounded lamb, facing a billygoat
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| Bowed down in our heavy coats
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| Under the force and the threat of his eyes
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| And we march in our rows and rows
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| Under a burning hand
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| Past the scars of the wounded land
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| Into a country of thorns and spines
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| Wild and unbroken
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| Oh, God save the chamberlain
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| Oh, God save his appointed successor
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| But God saved his hardest face for you and all your kind
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| That’s what’s troubling me
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| Hail Mary, sick and proud
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| And holding aloft the light
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| That would burn through a heaving night
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| And then leave us upon the rocks
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| And the child who is nearly born
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| Waits just to do you harm
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| Like the shock of a broken arm
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| Or a love that would burn you blind
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| Wild and unbroken |