| My thoughts left alone are a dangerous thing
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| They are hard to confront with dignity
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| Every conclusion has offered no change
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| No peace of mind, peace of mind
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| I’ve felt outcast and it’s kept me distant
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| It’s kept me resistant to the only grace worth giving into
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| I act on anger and think with my fist
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| To keep me from feeling like I’ve lost control
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| But I’ve slipped too far to pull my weight
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| Out of the grave I made my home
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| I used to look for a hiding spot
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| This isn’t what I had in mind
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| There must be more outside of
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| The skin the holds my bones in place
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| And then I met a man
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| Dressed in different faces
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| I recognized him by the hope in the way that he spoke to me
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| His words suggested purpose
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| That I started to see in my own reflection
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| Could it be there is truth in me?
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| Could it be there is truth in me?
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| My lungs are coming alive
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| My lungs are coming alive
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| Breathing life into the ghost I used to be
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| I can’t remain quiet
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| We’re designed for a purpose
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| Let where I’ve been give you peace
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| Hope is here
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| And then I met a man
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| Dressed in different faces
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| I recognized him by the hope in the way that he spoke to me
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| Hope is here
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| There must be more outside of
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| The skin that holds my bones in place |