Ahh
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Ahh
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There is a place in the bottom of the soul,
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It's no bread of restitution
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Hearts splash fly like dough
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Where there is no pollution
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You would know words to hold
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Folks question your solutions
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Bedrock of a river that flowed
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No times, present or future
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We are men of nature
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We are made from the earth
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At the end of my eighty, I'll return to the dirt
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Just sand, just rock, dry land, fast and silent
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Only bein' only breathin'
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We're just children of believers
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Type, fire and water be strong with compassion
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In the morning we're born everlasting
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Like the grass by the sea
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And in with the wind which knocks ya down time and again
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We remain and sing
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Stand until the dawn of day carries us away
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As we sway through the phases of each generation
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We leave our trace and then leave this station
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Fierce fronts, fantasy phased
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No blame, untamed or spoken
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Shiggy walks through this space
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On dry land that's cracked and broken
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We came to taste the rain
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We're just, widows and orphans
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Not afraid to feel the pain
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Or to leave behind our notions
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Bathe in showers, taste the tension,
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Hear the howl, climb the mountain,
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Kiss the cold and heal the frozen
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Read the dreams in this here dungeon
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We are men of nature
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We are made from the earth
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At the end of my eighty, I'll return to the dirt
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Just sand, just rock, dry land, fast and silent
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Only bein' only breathin'
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We're just children of believers
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There is fire in these leaves and therefore naturally,
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I'm not afraid to face these seasons
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'Cuz, times change and there's no one to blame
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Even when the day is leavin'
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Will you rise like a lion in the morning sun
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Or will ya, just lay there bleedin'
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When the time has come, return to the kingdom
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Close my eyes and be screamin "freedom"
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Freedom, freedom
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Freedom, freedom
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Freedom, freedom
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We are men of nature
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We are made from [freedom] the earth
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At the end of my eighty, I'll return to the dirt
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Just sand, just rock, dry land, fast and silent
|
Only bein' only breathin'
|
We're just children of believers
|
|
We are men of nature
|
We are made from the earth
|
At the end of my eighty, I'll return to the dirt
|
Just sand, just rock, dry land, fast and silent
|
Only bein' only breathin'
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We're just children of believers
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Children of believers
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-----------------
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On Nature
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Matisyahu |