I'm a long way from you,
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I'm a long way from home.
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And who cares for the feeling
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Of being alone?
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The notes and the words
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They will always unfold
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And I'm left with a manuscript
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That will grow old
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And the secrets all told anyway.
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So the song it is yours,
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And the song it is mine.
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And a cold wind it blows
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Through good fortunes of time.
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The hobo he leaves
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When the going is bad
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And the music he weaves
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Is so gentle and sad.
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But freedom he has anyway.
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-----------------
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The Music Weaver
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Sandy Denny |