| I grew up, not looking down
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| The shadow of a mountain fell upon my town
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| A blueness in the distance
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| Living in my memory
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| Now I climb the creaking stairs
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| And walk upon a vanishing floor to get nowhere
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| A little Mussolini screaming in my mind
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| History will tell you lies
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| History will tell you lies
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| Your dream is buried by the dust of ages
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| Time to sing a travel song
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| For all the days that come and go
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| As we move on
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| Erotic summer heat wave burring in my memory
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| Travel over hills and plains
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| See the hidden valley’s golden grass aflame
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| A mother tongue that licks away your secret fear
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| History will disappear
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| History will disappear
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| Your dream is buried by the dust of ages
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| Quite a load to carry
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| Everything that we have done
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| Searching my horizon for a glimpse of the millennium
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| Hasn’t been so very long
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| We haven’t even half begun
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| To peter out
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| A version of the future
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| Living in my mind
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| Leaving it all behind
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| It hasn’t all been done
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| History will tell you lies
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| All who fall shall cry
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| Your dream is buried by the dust of ages
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| On the Young Mountain all four winds flow
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| From the Young Mountain wild rivers flow
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| History will disappear
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| On the Young Mountain, a path unwinds
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| On the Young Mountain, who falls shall climb
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| Climb the Young Mountain
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| Cross the first river, swim the new sea
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| On the Young Mountain, all four winds will blow
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| Leaving it all behind
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| From the Young Mountain, wild rivers flow
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| History will tell you lies
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| On the Young Mountain, who falls shall climb
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| On the Young Mountain, all four winds will blow
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| From the Young Mountain, wild rivers flow |