| Darkened clouds rolling over the valley sparked the resting flame
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| Earth has come to claim her country, screaming out for rain.
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| Thunder’s fixed on the battle drum
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| pounding summoning a lightning strike.
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| One by on her heart be
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| gathered, waiting for the first to light.
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| Ooooh, I don’t know when the wind’ll turn,
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| Ooooh 82 fires still burn.
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| Raised two boys in the land of my
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| father’s tending crops in the fertile fields.
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| Through depth of frost and fire only took what the land could yield.
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| We heard old tales of 82 fires, smoke turned day to night.
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| And legends told there would come a time
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| when their return would follow their might.
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| Ooooh, I don’t know when the wind’ll turn,
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| Ooooh, 82 fires still burn.
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| The clearing’s quiet,
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| the air’s been taken to the furnace over the rise.
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| The last red sun has been shredded by the smoke that stings our eyes.
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| We always knew that on this land we would live and die,
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| but here we stand amoung 82 fires, speak our breath as goodbye.
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| Ooooh I don’t know when the wind’ll turn,
|
| Ooooh 82 fires still burn.
|
| Ooooh I don’t know when the wind’ll turn,
|
| Ooooh 82 fires still burn. |