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We've got a long way to go |
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Before we finish our patrol |
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Light burns off in the distance |
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No one dares make a sound |
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Scared we might wake the snow |
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Sleeping giants love to listen |
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And tethered together by lines of gold |
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Two of my brothers on patrol |
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Our breathing keeps us in rhythm |
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Well honey I know it's getting cold |
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Eye on the wool cape you have wove |
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I can smell your lavender and lipstick |
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You would never, ask me when I'm coming home |
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You know better, than to wait and watch the snow |
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While the other wives and mothers pray and count their rosaries |
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Not my lover, her lipstick lavender keeps her close to me |
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One, Two |
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One, Two, Three, Four |
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Hold me close as the hour escapes |
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Sunlight running on the mountain's ravenous face |
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The moon came too soon and it'll stay out too late |
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And I can feel that goddamn bell before they ring it |
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Gold heats in your hair promptly at 4 p.m. |
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Then cool to amber as the sun sets again |
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The light through the blinds paints patterns on skin |
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Your head dovetails so nicely on my chest where you laid it |
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When I'm out in the shop, faced to the forge |
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I think of you, my love, as I tend to the coals |
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Smiths with flames high in their eyes are all for show |
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Dreaming, lying to themselves that they've bridled Hades |
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A fire's that's good take patience, control |
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Even bellow breathing this work is painfully slow |
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But you must hold on because you'll taste the reward |
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When that white iron draws out, just like it was painted |
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I know you know this, but I tell you this time |
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Because I need to say it out loud to feel right |
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You listen to me whisper it, my lips graze you ear with every line |
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And you memorize every word, just as I say it |
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Press into me, leave marks in my side |
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And I promise to pull you in until my knuckles go white |
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You're breathing with me now as the sun slips behind the mountain ridge to the west |
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And the day is finished |