| I was a Highwoman
|
| And a mother from my youth
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| For my children I did what I had to do
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| My family left Honduras when they killed the Sandinistas
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| We followed a coyote through the dust of Mexico
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| Every one of them except for me survived
|
| And I am still alive
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| I was a healer
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| I was gifted as a girl
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| I laid hands upon the world
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| Someone saw me sleeping naked in the noon sun
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| I heard «witchcraft"in the whispers and I knew my time had come
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| The bastards hung me at the Salem gallows hill
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| But I am living still
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| I was a freedom rider
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| When we thought the South had won
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| Virginia in the spring of '61
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| I sat down on the Greyhound that was bound for Mississippi
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| My mother asked me if that ride was worth my life
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| And when the shots rang out I never heard the sound
|
| But I am still around
|
| And I’ll take that ride again
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| And again
|
| And again
|
| And again
|
| And again
|
| I was a preacher
|
| My heart broke for all the world
|
| But teaching was unrighteous for a girl
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| In the summer I was baptized in the mighty Colorado
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| In the winter I heard the hounds and I knew I had been found
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| And in my Savior’s name, I laid my weapons down
|
| But I am still around
|
| We are The Highwomen
|
| Singing stories still untold
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| We carry the sons you can only hold
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| We are the daughters of the silent generations
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| You sent our hearts to die alone in foreign nations
|
| It may return to us as tiny drops of rain
|
| But we will still remain
|
| And we’ll come back again and again and again
|
| And again and again
|
| And we’ll come back again and again and again
|
| And again and again
|
| We’ll come back again and again and again
|
| And again and again
|
| And we’ll come back again and again and again
|
| And again and again |