| The vultures are flying lower than they used to
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| They don’t waste their time on old bleached bones
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| It’s too damned hot, and I feel choked out
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| Our past betrayed by smoke and mirrors
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| All she gives is a stone facade
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| Like ill-given flowers at a dead man’s wake
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| Here we slave for the dreams of another
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| And fight over scraps like wayward dogs
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| The ash under a red stone guides the way
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| The embers of his words ignite our souls
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| My love and I, we will follow
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| We’ll find our valley of the moon
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| These words a mirror of his own heart
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| And to the land he gave it to
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| Looking back to the strength of our blood
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| A great river of fortune and will
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| All they gave, they gave for us
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| A better life in a better land
|
| The ash under a red stone guides the way
|
| The embers of his words ignite our souls
|
| My love and I, we will follow
|
| We’ll find our valley of the moon
|
| A place where we can be who we are
|
| And just what we were meant to be
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| Plain to hold and see of what we’re made
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| Spirit, sinew, blood, and soil
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| Up horses now, and straight and true
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| Let every broken furrow run
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| The strength you sweat shall blossom yet
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| And golden glory to the sun
|
| The ash under a red stone guides the way
|
| The embers of his words ignite our souls
|
| My love and I, we will follow
|
| We’ll find our valley of the moon |