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As he stood upon the watch deck |
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Looking out onto the sea |
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It would offer no solutions |
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Only silent company |
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So he took hold of the reasons |
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As he tried to understand |
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But they offered just confusion |
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As they bled into his hands |
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Dear god |
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Couldn't you decide |
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What should happen to a man's assassins |
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Dear god |
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Is it suicide |
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I have never been a man of passions |
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I believe what the prophets said |
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That the oceans hold their dead |
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But at night when the waves are near |
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They whisper |
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And I hear |
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There are wounds that bleed inside us |
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There are wounds we never see |
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They are part of our refinements |
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That allow a man to be |
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There are wounds that bleed in silence |
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With aristocratic grace |
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There are tears we keep beside them |
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Never seen upon a face |
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Dear god |
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Do you think it's wise |
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To remember everything that's ever happened |
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Dear god |
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Could we compromise |
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Or must the shadows of this night be everlasting |
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I believe what the prophets said |
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That the oceans hold their dead |
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As I contemplate this stand |
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What I do |
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Is who I am |
|
I believe what the prophets said |
|
That the oceans hold their dead |
|
But at night when the waves are near |
|
They whisper |
|
And I hear |
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Don't see the storms are forming |
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Don't see or heed the warning |
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Don't hear the sound of tyrants |
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Surrounded by the silence |
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Columbus and magellan and de gama |
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Sailed upon the ocean |
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In a world of ignorance |
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With thoughts so primitive |
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That men were killed |
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With no more will |
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Than that they simply had the notion |
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But in this world of heartless men |
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This thing they never did |
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Don't hear it |
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Don't hear it |
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Don't hear it |
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Don't hear it |
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Got to keep it underground |
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Pretend you never heard a sound |
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If they find it kill it blind it |
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If they find it kill it blind it |
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Lord tell me what is to be |
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Lord tell me what is to be |
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They whisper and I hear |