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Radio War
Iron And Wine
Text File
Tabbed by Depression
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Did the wine make her dream
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Of the far distant spring
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Or a bed full of hens
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Or the ghost of a friend
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All the while that she wept
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She had a gun by her bed
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And a letter he wrote
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From a dry, foundered boat
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And the train track will take
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All the wounded ones home
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And I�ll be alone
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Fare thee well Sara Jones
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Now we lie on the floor
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While the radio war
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Finds its way through the air
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Of the dead market square
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And the beast never seen
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Licks it�s red talons clean
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Sara curses the cold
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"No more snow, no more snow, no more snow"