| Just a little sleep, a little slumber
|
| Little folding of the hands to rest
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| That’s what we tell ourselves
|
| But we know we’re gonna just lay here till the sun’s gone west
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| But there are foxes in the garden
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| And there’s an armed man at the door
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| When the wind is right and the skies show favor
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| When the heat has died and the day is cool
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| We tell ourselves that we’ll do it later
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| When we know full well that that ain’t true
|
| And now there’s wolves at every window
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| The mob is breaking down the door
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| Come on, we gotta wake up!
|
| We gotta wake up!
|
| We gotta wake up!
|
| I hear them coming back for more
|
| We gotta wake up!
|
| Oh, we say we’ll do it when things settle down
|
| We say we’ll do it when this season’s through
|
| We say we’ll do it when we get around to it
|
| But it’s already overdue
|
| And there are foxes in the garden
|
| And there’s an armed man at the door
|
| Tomorrow’s song is a siren singing
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| Such a sweet and subtle lullaby
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| Tomorrow’s song has got us clinging
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| To the promise of the by and by
|
| And now there’s wolves at every window
|
| The mob is breaking down the door
|
| Come on, we gotta wake up!
|
| We gotta wake up!
|
| We gotta wake up!
|
| I hear them coming back for more
|
| Come on, we gotta wake up!
|
| We gotta wake up!
|
| We gotta wake up!
|
| Oh, I think they’re gathering for war |