| The book of love, that sacred place
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| Where we walk tall, or in disgrace
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| Who tills the ground on which we tread
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| Who gives us all our daily bread
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| The spirit woken from its sleep
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| The demon stirring from the deep
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| Whose gates at dawn we all must pass
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| The last one first, the first one last
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| Whose words must be both black and white
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| Whose music shall be day and night
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| The moon that tells us of the sun
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| Where voices soar so far above
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| These pages are the book of love
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| If we were bore just to succeed
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| If life was meant to be a choice
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| For either happiness or greed
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| If you can’t walk, you always run
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| Away from anyone, yes you will
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| And if we learn to take our time
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| As though each moment is a treasure
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| That’s not so hard to find
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| When you are free, then suddenly
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| There’s room for everyone, yes there is chorous:
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| The book of love, the world of dreams
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| Those shadows fall upon us all
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| And send our weary eyes to sleep
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| But when you wake, your heart will make
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| Some room for everyone
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| Just come to me There’s nothing you should fear
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| Just come to me
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| I’ll always be right here
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| I tell you now
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| My heart is where I live
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| And what you ask, is what I’ll give
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| If we were bore just to succeed
|
| If life was meant to be a choice
|
| For either happiness or greed
|
| If you can’t walk, you always run
|
| Away from anyone, yes you will
|
| And if we learn to take our time
|
| As though each moment is a treasure
|
| That’s not so hard to find
|
| When you are free, then suddenly
|
| There’s room for everyone, yes there is chorous |