| Dearly beloved, we’re gathered here today
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| To talk about a book we loved to death
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| Reflecting on the message of the pen
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| Its stories read over and over again
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| But this book is not just about somewhere else
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| Starring each and every single one of us
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| Pages filled with our own memories, masterplans
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| Never forgotten, no not ever and ever again
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| It’s up to us to write the sequel, It’s up to us to live unfinished stories
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| As we are the writers, the actors and the audience all in one
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| Sadly enough some books are no longer near
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| Before we finish them they seem to have disappeared
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| Or you find out they have an open end
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| When you turn the last page over and over again
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| It’s up to us to write the sequel, It’s up to us to live unfinished stories
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| The future is unwritten, let’s try to write
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| It’s up to us to write the sequel, It’s up to us to live unfinished stories
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| As we are the writers, the actors and the audience all in one
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| But as with everything, when books get older their pages crumble
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| Blank spots, dried out ink, when books get older they disassemble
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| But as with everything, when we get older we start to stumble
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| Blind eyes, dried out skin, what is left are the words and what we’ll remember |