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Blessed are the one way ticket holders |
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On a one way street. |
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Blessed are the midnight riders |
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For in the shadow of God they sleep. |
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Blessed are the huddled hikers |
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Staring out at falling rain, |
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Wondering at the retribution |
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In their personal acquaintance with pain. |
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Blessed are the blood relations |
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Of the young ones who have died, |
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Who had not the time or patience |
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To carry on this earthly ride. |
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Rain will come and winds will blow, |
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Wild deer die in the mountain snow. |
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Birds will beat at heaven's wall, |
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What comes to one must come to us all. |
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For you and I are one way ticket holders |
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On a one way street. |
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Which lies across a golden valley |
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Where the waters of joy and hope run deep. |
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So if you pass the parents weeping |
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Of the young ones who have died, |
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Take them to your warmth and keeping |
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For blessed are the tears they cried |
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And many were the years they tried. |
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Take them to that valley wide |
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And let their souls be pacified. |