Early morning, dreary horizon
Aching hands are pulling a millstone
Wailing from the cart
Moaning from a shattered heart
SheÂ’s burned down many a bridge
And sheÂ’s scared of walking in the dark
It hurts when the rain falls on her skin
Oh she is worn out from marching
And sheÂ’s forgotten for what sheÂ’s searching
Yet she keeps up the stride
God knows that she wonÂ’t arrive
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