| As we rolled from the hill to a bridge by a quarry
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| Legends were born from this story
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| Painted men, once again, turning blue like the buried
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| Accounts of this story are varied
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| And the winds blew us right over the trees
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| And the ancestors returned on their knees
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| Rusty nails on the trails, burning boards in a fury
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| Smoldering insects did scurry
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| Smashing stones, digging bones
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| Where the unknown are buried
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| Accounts of this story are varied
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| And the boards started to smolder again
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| Burning bones over the insects and men
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| But then warriors don’t age well as it seems
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| When they shower you with mortgages and dreams
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| Was it something that you found?
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| That made you turn around?
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| Knocked you off your throne, left me here alone
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| Tangled in the trees, and gave you their disease! |