| Transition’s tying up my head,
|
| In spite of all the things I’ve said.
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| This time has all but come and gone,
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| Been stationary far too long.
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| This operation’s not equipped,
|
| When this foundation starts to slip.
|
| As far as it may seem,
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| I’ve always had a choice,
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| But too afraid to pay for it,
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| As quiet as it was,
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| I’ve always had a voice,
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| But not enough to say with it.
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| I can’t forever hold my peace,
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| Or stand for something on my knees.
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| I’ve got to get up off the ground,
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| And leave this endless lost and found.
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| How much does instinct have to say,
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| It doesn’t have to be this way.
|
| As far as it may seem,
|
| I’ve always had a choice,
|
| But too afraid to pay for it,
|
| As quiet as it was,
|
| I’ve always had a voice,
|
| But not enough to say with it.
|
| It’s not too late,
|
| It’s not too late,
|
| It’s not too late,
|
| It’s not too late.
|
| As far as it may seem,
|
| I’ve always had a choice,
|
| But too afraid to pay for it,
|
| As quiet as it was,
|
| I’ve always had a voice,
|
| But not enough to say with it.
|
| It’s not too late,
|
| It’s not too late,
|
| It’s not too late,
|
| It’s not too late. |