| What if you reached the age of reason
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| Only to find there was no reprieve
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| Would you still be a man for all seasons?
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| Or would you just have to leave
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| We measure our days out
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| In steps of uncertainty
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| Not turning to see how we’ve come
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| And peer down the highway
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| From here to eternity
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| And reach out for love on the run
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| While the man for all seasons
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| Is lost behind the sun
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| Henry Plantagenent still looks for someone
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| To bring good news in his hour of doubt
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| While Thomas More waits in the Tower of London
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| Watching the sands running out
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| And measures the hours out
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| From here to oblivion
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| In actions that can’t be undone
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| A sailor through the darkness
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| He scans the meridian
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| And caught by the first rays of dawn
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| The man for all seasons
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| Is lost beneath the storm
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| And I should know by now
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| I should know by now
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| I hear them call it out all around
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| Oh, they go
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| There’s nothing to believe in
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| Hear them
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| Just daydreams, deceiving
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| They’ll just let you down
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| So what if you reached the age of reason
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| Only to find there was no reprieve
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| Would you still be a man for all seasons?
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| Or would you just disbelieve?
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| We measure our gains out in luck and coincidence
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| Lanterns to turn back in the night
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| And put our defeats down to chance or experience
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| And try once again for the light
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| Some wait for the waters of fortune to cover them
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| Some just see the tides of ill chance rushing over them
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| Some call on Jehovah
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| Some cry out to Allah
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| Some wait for the boats that still row to Valhallah
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| Well, you try to accept what the fades are unfolding
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| While some say they’re sure where the shame should be falling
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| You look round for maybe a chance of forestalling
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| But too soon it’s over and done
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| And the man for all seasons
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| Is lost behind the sun |