| We are rising as the sun retreats into the trees
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| We’re thinking of our destination as we start to leave
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| We’re marching to the sea, marching to the sea
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| Marching to the sea, we’re marching to the sea
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| We’re marching to the sea, we’re marching to the sea
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| We’re marching to the sea, we’re marching to the sea
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| We’re marching to the sea, we’re marching to the sea
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| Smiling from the gentle touches of the evening breeze
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| No one is unhappy now and no one is fatigued
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| We’re marching to the sea, marching to the sea
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| I’m a tired old man in a tired old land
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| Watching shadows moving across the sand
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| Now they move at night and I understand
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| That they cannot see more than they can stand
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| I have been decieved, I have murdered and
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| I have seen the soul of an unborn lamb;
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| It can burn a hole in a guilty man
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| But it cannot stand in a distant land
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| Let my children live in a holy land
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| Let my children live in a holy land
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| Let my children live in a holy land
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| Let my children live in a holy land
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| We have left our lives, we have left our land
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| We have left behind all we understand
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| Now we must cry out, yes we must demand
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| Let my children live in a land that’s low
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| Where the holes are deeper than light can go
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| Let them have not pride but instead a soul
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| That can see the shame of the hands that glow |