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Chavez
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Wakeman's Air
I'm not sure about the air
Don't law low, stop this cold (the hour is short)
To feed the tongue into the fold
Hide these hours
Hide these hours, Until
You're waiting for the ropes to split
Hiding on the maiden ship
And you caught the crowd, went over after them wait in your wake
No one's in your wake
You're waiting for the ropes to split
Hiding on the maiden ship
And you caught the crowd, went over after them wait in your wake
No one's in your wake
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