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Kosovo Rose
Well, I flip through lifes' pages,
ignoring her sages
I just wander around, the sights and
the sounds;
that whirl through my brain, transcend
the pain
I see in her eyes, as I realize...
that flower that grows, in the field
beyond
where she kneels and cries, is her
lovers' graveside.
Well, I picked up a daisy, and this
may sound crazy,
but I knelt by her side, and heaved
a sigh;
And I took her face, her strength
and her grace,
I wiped off her tears, remembering
back years,
to a nation of children, who in pure
innocence,
cried out in the dark, for a world
that makes sense.
I am free, I am free! Honey, don't
cry for me;
Cry for Freedom, ringing...
I am free, I am free! Mama, don't
pray for me;
Pray for Liberty, reign o'er.
Well, I see this lady, 19, just a baby;
Her husband is gone, and she cries
alone.
I swore on that day, somehow, some
way;
I'd help ease her pain, so she'll
rise again.
There are flowers that grow, in the
fields of war,
and the seeds that are sown, will
bloom evermore.
I am free, I am free! Honey, don't
cry for me;
Cry for Freedom, ringing...
I am free, I am free! Mama, don't
pray for me;
Pray for Liberty, reign o'er.
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