| In this bookcase full of stories
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| You find some of them are true
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| Tales of love and glory
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| Many lives of daring-do
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| There is mystery and adventure
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| They lie waiting there for you
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| So step inside and find the other you
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| Take the high road tomorrow
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| But the low road today
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| Reading other’s sorrow
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| Might just be the only way
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| The father hears confession
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| While the mother’s feeling blue
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| These characters do what you want them to
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| In these pages we consume
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| Lives in many colors lovers in full bloom
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| And through the ages words are born
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| Speaking to the senses lifting the forlorn
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| There’s glamour and dementia
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| A message from the tomb
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| Staircase to the heavens
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| And secrets in the room
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| When you are riding on that dark horse
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| To the one that got away
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| There’s no regrets and no dues left to pay
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| 'Cause in these pages we consume
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| Lives in many colors lovers in full bloom
|
| And through the ages words are born
|
| Speaking to the senses lifting the forlorn
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| Drifting down the river of the make believe
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| We laugh and grieve
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| Hoping for an ending of our own design
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| Where all is fine
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| In these pages we consume
|
| Lives in many colors lovers in full bloom
|
| And through the ages words are born
|
| Speaking to the senses lifting the forlorn
|
| In these pages we consume
|
| Lives in many colors lovers in full bloom
|
| And through the ages words are born… (fade) |