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It was one |
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In a million |
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It was one |
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In a million |
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It was lost to antiquity |
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From an age when the nations strove |
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Marching to the tune of the Ogre of France |
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But I found and read |
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The true story of a French lieutenant |
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Who found himself in need of a mount |
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'Twas 1805 and he was rising fast in a world |
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At war |
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It was one |
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In a million |
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It was one |
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In a million |
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She was mean and would rage |
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Killing a groom |
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Beating down her cage |
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And no one with any sense would ride her |
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She bit everyone |
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She had murder in her heart |
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When she took him by the throat and rode away |
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Did the same to a couple of others |
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Yet he bought the mare |
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It was one |
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In a million |
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It was one |
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In a million |
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And so two years would pass |
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Still he rides the meanest mare in the army |
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It had become a joke among the men |
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But they fought as one |
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"Bear this message of retreat and save the day!" |
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None ride faster than Lisette through the fray |
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Round-shot swift as death |
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Left no time to react |
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Tore clean through his helm |
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But left his head intact |
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Such was the shock of impact |
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It left him paralyzed |
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Yet he's aware of everything, everyone |
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This hill is lost, everything overrun |
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Why does the horse now tarry |
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While here he sits exposed |
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Though the square is broken |
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She seems but to doze |
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Whence fled all her fury |
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And where fled all her ire? |
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Once so full of anger |
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Once so full of fire |
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Run Lisette and become the wind |
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You must hasten now lest we meet our end |
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In this cannonade or by Russian lance |
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For at every turn 'tis with Death we dance |
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I Bellephoron, you the Pegasus |
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Grow you wings my friend for to fly you must |
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So now run Lisette, oh you wicked beast |
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You will leave us here to die so cruel! |
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Yet he's aware of everything |
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Then a grenadier struck a fateful blow |
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Thrust with his blade |
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Aimed at the Aide |
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But it missed and went wide |
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And it tore into Lisette |
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Into her thigh did it plunge |
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Caused her to lunge as she |
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Went for the throat |
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Still the Aide cannot move, he's wounded so |
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She's grabbed her foe |
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She's found her legs, so that |
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Now watch her go |
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Run, run like the wind |
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To murder him |
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Finds her spot |
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Clear of the lot |
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Stomping like death |
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Biting deep into flesh |
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She kills her man |
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Fast goes the horse and rider |
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Both wounded, but alive |
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But for the mare Lisette |
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Neither would survive |
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Run, for the blood is flowing |
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Fly, for the snow grows deep |
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Back to friendly faces |
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Round friendly fires to sleep |
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Run Lisette and become the wind |
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You must hasten now lest we meet our end |
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In this cannonade or by Russian lance |
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For at every turn 'tis with Death we dance |
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I Bellephoron, you the Pegasus |
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Grow you wings my friend for to fly you must |
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So now run Lisette, oh you wicked beast |
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Back to friendly fires, familiar faces |
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And now his thoughts are turning ever homeward |
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And thus the beast must bear him there and onward |
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And now his thoughts are turning ever homeward |
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And thus the beast must bear him there and onward |