| Venture my way into the dark where we can sweat
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| One takes one by the hand
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| Let them crawl into the logs that dam
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| Brown jeans the hue of their path
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| Excited and screamin' their voices grow wild
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| And rise with the birds mating up in the pines
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| Down to puddles that breathe, covered by leaves
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| With mud they’ll make prints on their backs
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| Will it be just like they’re dreaming?
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| Will it be just like I’m dreaming?
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| Will it be just like they’re dreaming?
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| Will it be just like I’m dreaming?
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| If they’re awake till the dawn, well we won’t
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| Fret that they don’t have our eye
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| The ghosts came crowding around and then
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| I woke, you slept there on your side
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| From our window, two lanterns draw signs on the night
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| And light our two shadows, I watch with delight
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| Will I want them to be who they will be Or to be more like their dad?
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| Will it be just like they’re dreaming?
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| Will it be just like I’m dreaming?
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| Will it be just like they’re dreaming?
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| Will it be just like I’m dreaming?
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| When influence is threatened
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| Maybe I should let them
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| Maybe we should let them
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| And I have a question:
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| Are you also frightened?
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| No one should call you a dreamer
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| Not now! |