| Barefoot in the evening dust
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| Ask the bronze girl who she trusts
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| To win the human race for us
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| And does she cry herself to sleep
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| Or will she in the morning speak
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| Of golden dreams and gypsy freaks
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| Who in Pandora’s canyon roam
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| A teakwood treasure of her own
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| To light a stately pleasure dome
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| Barefoot in the mountain stream
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| That flows from music Hippocrene
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| We teach the young girl how to sing
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| From father’s words and mother’s heart
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| The sunrise of a newborn bard
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| The child born into minstrel’s art
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| To summer’s green and red rock flame
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| Where rubies on horizon hang
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| Inspiration is her name!
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| A coming child of night’s delight
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| A Cain to Abel’s fury right
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| Midsummer’s nameless blessed child
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| A pearl of augury and sage
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| The arrow fixed upon its aim
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| The herald words upon the page
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| The children of this thousandth year
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| Will glide past shadowed valley fear
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| And shed they not a single tear
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| For Avalon approaches here
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| Avalon the path is clear!
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| Transposed by: TheDreadfulGreat |