Hiding from the faces that we know
Riding to the places we have grown
And I walk in the sun but my feet are damp
And I speak with the folk like my fathers son
And my feet they are worn but they're comfortable
Let our fathers sing this
Hiding, riding
Hiding, oh, don't you want to go away?
I'm feeling that I'm far away today
Away, I'm feeling that I'm far away today
Singing, there will come a time to sing
Stirring after days of being still
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