And who will write love songs for you
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When I am Lord at last
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And your body is the little highway shrine
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That all my priests have passed
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That all my priests have passed?
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My priests, they will put flowers there
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They will kneel before the glass
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But they'll wear away your little window, love
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They will trample on the grass
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They will trample on the grass
|
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And who will shoot the arrow
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That men will follow through your grace
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When I am Lord of memories
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And all your armor has turned to lace
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And all your armor has turned to lace?
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The simple life of heroes
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The twisted life of saints
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They just confuse the sunny calendar
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With their red and golden paint
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With their red and golden paint
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And all of you have seen the dance
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That God has kept from me
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But he has seen me watching you
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When all your minds were free
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When all your minds were free
|
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And who will write love songs for you
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When I am Lord at last
|
And your body is the little highway shrine
|
That all my priests have passed
|
That all my priests have passed?
|
|
My priests, they will put flowers there
|
They will stand before the glass
|
But they'll wear away your little window, love
|
They will trample on the grass
|
They will trample on the grass
|
|
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Priests (LP Version)
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| Judy Collins |