| I still haven’t gone to do up my hair
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| You’d have to be here
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| I like when I hear you talking
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| And I like when you just let it go
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| You’d have to be here
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| I’m watching an old man crossing the street below me now
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| Strange, but he hardly seems like a man anymore
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| I know it’s the way of the world that the shimmer we hold somehow
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| Changes so slowly to sand on the shore
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| The sun has begun to break through the clouds
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| You’d have to be here
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| I like when I see you sleeping
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| And I like when you just let it go
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| You’d have to be here
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| I’m seeing a garden, a place I keep longing to show to you
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| It’s northerly facing and close to an open fjord
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| The wind that was moving the rhubarb moved through my childhood, too
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| Calling so slowly from summers before
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| And everything changes and nothing can last
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| I’m sure you’ve been here
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| Sometimes I can’t help but worry
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| And sometimes I can just let it go
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| I’m sure you’ve been here
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| The days may have names you can call, but they never come back to you
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| The days are like children, they change into years as they grow
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| They can’t find their way and there’s no one to show where they’re going to
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| They play with us here for a while and so swiftly — they go |