| Do you remember how you walked with me
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| Down the street into the square?
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| How the women selling rosemary
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| Pressed the branches to your chest
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| Promised luck and all the rest
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| And put their fingers in your hair?
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| I had met you just the day before
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| Like an accident of fate
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| In the window there behind your door
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| How I wanted to break in
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| To that room beneath your skin
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| But all that would have to wait
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| In the Carmen of the Martyrs
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| With the statues in the courtyard
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| Whose heads and hands were taken
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| In the burden of the sun;
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| I had come to meet you
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| With a question in my footsteps
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| I was going up the hillside
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| And the journey just begun
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| My sister says she never dreams at night
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| There are days when I know why;
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| Those possibilities within her sight
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| With no way of coming true
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| Some things just don’t get through
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| Into this world, although they try
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| In the Carmen of the Martyrs
|
| With the statues in the courtyard
|
| Whose heads and hands were taken
|
| In the burden of the sun;
|
| I had come to meet you
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| With a question in my footsteps
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| I was going up the hillside
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| And the journey just begun
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| All I know of you
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| Is in my memory
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| All I ask is you
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| Remember me |