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Enya - Exile
Cold is the nothern wind in December mornings,
Cold is the cry that rings from this far distant shore.
Winter has come too late,too close beside me.
How can I chase away all these fears deep inside?
I'll wait the signs to come.I'll find a way.
I will wait the time to come.I'll find a way home.
My light shell be the moon and my path-the ocean.
My guide the morning star as I sail home to you.
I'll wait the signs to come.I'll find a way.
I will wait the time to come.I'll find a way home.
Who then can worm my soul?Who can quell my passion?
Out of the dreams-a boat.I will sail home to you.
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