| First sign of trouble you take to the woods
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| With your slippers and your hair pulled under your hood
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| You won’t look behind you you’ll just know that you should
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| Be ready for climbing like you never thought you could
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| Looking for cover like you’ve never had to
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| Knowing it gets worse before it ever gets good
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| Cause something’s wrong something’s near
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| Slowly advances and has us surrounded here
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| And if I’m right then it’s clear
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| That I’ll be on the wrong end of the spear
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| There’s ice on th river there’s snow on th rocks
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| But it’s too soft here to cross
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| That’s buck’s fur you’re seeing in the water circled by hawks
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| You stay off the middle you keep out of shot
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| Your feet down in the frost
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| These kinds of stories aren’t told if both get lost
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| Something’s wrong something has come
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| It’s not taking chances it’s not giving us one
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| And if I’m right then you’ll hear drums
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| And I’ll be on the wrong end of the gun
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| This hill we’re on is no longer safe enough it’s true
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| Too easy now to be stormed and set fire to
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| To be overtaken by the likes
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| Of even children that are too young to fight
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| Something’s wrong something appears
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| With an arrow to its ear coming up on its heels
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| Now if I’m right then it’s real
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| I’ll be on the wrong end of the shield
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| I’ll be on the wrong end of the shield
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| And you’ll be gone you’ll have disappeared |