| I can’t be worrying, worrying all the time about the truth
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| I have to worry 'bout the truth that can be lived with
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| The naked truth is undisguised and barefacedly ruthless
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| So I pick out the worries I can cope with
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| I can’t be facing the reality with my eyes skinned
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| The truth is meant to be refined, not taken raw
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| So don’t worry me with worries I have chosen to present
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| From my doorstep, every time I’d come and go
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| And that is the difference between
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| Losing your marbles, drinking the salty sea
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| Or swallowing the fresh water
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| From the streams
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| It’s a thin line between turquoise and green
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| Every moment has a different shade
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| I color my poor trail with tones in between
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| Cherishing illusions I made
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| With one leg in the future and the other in the past
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| I face the now that I am able to inhale
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| The truth I choose to speak of is the one I want to last
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| A partial half-truth, that’s allowing me to fail
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| And that is the difference between
|
| Losing your marbles, drinking the salty sea
|
| Or swallowing the fresh water
|
| From the streams
|
| It’s a thin line between turquoise and green
|
| Every moment has a different shade
|
| I color my poor trail with tones in between
|
| Cherishing illusions I made |