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WINDS OF THE OLD DAYS
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(Words and Music by Joan Baez)
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The lady's adrift in a foreign land
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Singing on issues both humble and grand
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A decade flew past her and there on the page
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She read that the prince had returned to the stage
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Hovering near treacherous waters
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A friend saw her drifting and caught her
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Unguarded fantasies flying too far
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Memories tumbling like sweets from a jar
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And take me down to the harbor now
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Grapes of the summer are low on the bough
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Ghosts of my history will follow me there
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And the winds of the old days will blow through my hair
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Breath on an undying ember
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It doesn't take much to remember
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Those eloquent songs from the good old days
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That set us to marching with banners ablaze
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But reporters, there's no sense in prying
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Our blue-eyed son's been denying
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The truths that are wrapped in a mystery
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The sixties are over so set him free
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And take me down to the harbor now
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Grapes of the summer are low on the bough
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Ghosts of my history will follow me there
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And the winds of the old days will blow through my hair
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Why do I sit the autumnal judge
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Years of self-righteousness will not budge
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Singer or savior, it was his to choose
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Which of us knows what was his to lose
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Because idols are best when they're made of stone
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A savior's a nuisance to live with at home
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Stars often fall, heroes go unsung
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And martyrs most certainly die too young
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So thank you for writing the best songs
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Thank you for righting a few wrongs
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You're a savage gift on a wayward bus
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But you stepped down and you sang to us
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And get you down to the harbor now
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Most of the sour grapes are gone from the bough
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Ghosts of Johanna will visit you there
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And the winds of the old days will blow through your hair
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¨Ï 1975 Chandos Music (ASCAP)
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WINDS OF THE OLD DAYS
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joan baez |