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You were a witch with your short hair |
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The weather would celebrate us both as we ran all the way home |
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Staked out in the oaks |
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In the form of little brothers from down below |
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The weather would celebrate us both as we ran all the way home |
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Tumbling down the hill |
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Our faces dirty with warpaint |
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And all of Jerusalem is sleeping in our front yard |
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Please be able only to see the legs in front of us |
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We went through the carpentry |
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Having stolen parts of buildings |
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Shouting for you to slap the songs on your knees |
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Are we as bandits with orange peels over our eyes? |
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You were a witch with your short hair |
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The weather would celebrate us both as we ran all the way home |
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Tumbling down the hill |
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Our faces dirty with warpaint |
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These are the tools that take the marrow from your bones |