Из альбома: Christmas.

Away from wind that ruddies up your skin
Away from all the troubles setting in
To gather round the ones that we hold dear

As they may not be here this time next year

For time does collapse
Into the past
So greet this Christmas as though it were your last

We'll raise a glass to dreams we gave away
And celebrate the few that still remain

Just cast aside
Your fickle pride
And greet this Christmas as though it were your last

So find the time
To make time
And greet each Christmas as though it were your last

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