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@ @ |
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Mary walks |
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down to the water's edge |
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and there she hangs her head |
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to find herself faded |
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a shadow of what she once was |
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She said "How long have I been sleeping |
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and why do I feel so old |
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why do I feel so cold |
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my heart is saying one thing |
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but my body won't let go |
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With trembling hands she reaches up |
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a stranger's flesh is offered |
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and I would be the last to know |
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I would be the last the let it show |
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I would be the last to go |
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Take her hand |
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she will lead you through the fire |
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give you back hope |
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and hope that you won't take too much |
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respecting what is left |
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she cradled us |
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she held us in her arms |
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unselfish in her suffering |
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she could not understand |
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that no one seemed to have the time |
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to cherish what was given |
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and I would be the last to know |
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and I would be the last to let it show |
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I would be the last to go... |
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Mary walks. |
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|
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and I would be the last to know |
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and I would be the last to let it show |
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I would be the last to go... |
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