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She had four white stallions coming around the bend |
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Four strong angels at her command ascend |
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Four more seasons for all that's broken to mend |
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And I got four good reasons why I can't go back there again |
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She had skin like a statue, milky white and pure |
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Carved by an artist, whose hand is demure |
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Got a mind like a sabre, razor sharp and sure |
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And God how I hate myself for still wanting her |
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Damn these nights of dreaming, vision soft and sure |
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Now I'll wait to find there's nothing left of me and her |
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Nothing more than a heart still at war |
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She had four white stallions coming up around the bend |
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Four strong angels already sent |
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Four more seasons for all that's broken to mend |
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She had four more seasons for all that's broken to mend |
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And I got four good reasons why I can't go back there again |