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I try to make a living off the land,
The land tells me, ‘That cannot be.’
I’ve got to find another way to keep us alive.
I’m afraid we’ll have to leave this village.
And move across the desert
(if we ever can reach it’s edge)
It used to be that there were trees just on the horizon.
But now I can’t remember what colour they were.
It’s a sad sad day when a father has to bury his only son.
To see that child lying there in it’s mothers arms.
He was so thin, his lips so pale.
His eyes full of something so endearing.
Innocence divine.
Pity us; it used to be that there were trees just on the horizon.
But now we can’t remember what colour they were.
Maybe in heaven we’ll understand why this is happening to us.
Maybe we’re in hell and this is a punishment for the sins of another life.
Maybe we’ll have to move across the desert
(if we ever can reach it’s edge)
It used to be that there were trees just on the horizon.
But now I can’t remember what colour they were.
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