| By townes van zandt
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| Ill play upon my violin
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| Until the mountains ring
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| Of lonely laughter blindly thrown
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| And cause an endless sark of strings
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| The skies are sad
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| Theyre dancin to a silent symphony
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| And the velvet voices all shall join
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| The singing
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| The hall is filled to every corner
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| By a tinkling hint of chimes
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| A melody careens and crumbles
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| Leaving just a trace behind
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| A rhythm faintly fails
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| The silver on its wings
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| And the velvet voices all shall join
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| The singing
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| The cymbals flash, the drums they crash
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| The trumpets rise the song
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| The brass beton plucks its diamonds
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| From a glittering wall of almost dawn
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| The crystal chords they slash the wind
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| In humble majesty
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| And the velvet voices all shall join
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| The singing |