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Nataliya

I met her in a holy town
Dirty afternoon of crumbling grace
Fur collar turned upside down
Pretty nose spread across her face

She said I get to keep my tips
Since ’53 we’ve come quite far
And schoolgirls dream of a life like this
There’s no coal left in Vorkuta

Nataliya, come home
Nataliya, come home
Nataliya, come home
Into the cold

They spun such pretty tales
Seven orange groves and Cyprus sun
Now I’ve got seven sons a day
Funny how the truth’s undone

Just gotta
Sleep my plane fare off
For another living overseas
If I work long and hard enough…
There’s no fruit here in Tel Aviv

Nataliya, come home
Nataliya, come home
Nataliya, come home
Into the cold

And your cold white hands
They’re your lily assassins
See how they dance in shadow
The tiles on the wall
They’re the clouds that surrounds you
The dust in the wind and the lillies on snow…

Nataliya, come home
Nataliya, come home
Nataliya, come home
Into the cold
Into the cold

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