| The rain, it started tapping on the window near my bed
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| There was a loophole in my dreaming so I got out of it
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| And to my surprise my eyes were wide and already open
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| Just my nightstand and my dresser where those nightmares had just been
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| So I dressed myself and left then, out into the gray streets
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| But everything seemed different and completely new to me
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| The sky, the trees, houses, buildings, even my own body
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| And each person I encountered, I couldn’t wait to meet
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| And I came upon a doctor who appeared in quite poor health
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| I said, «There's nothing I can do for you you can’t do for yourself»
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| He said, «Oh yes you can, just hold my hand, I think that that would help»
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| So I sat with him a while, then I asked him how he felt
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| He said, «I think I’m cured
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| In fact, I’m sure of it
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| Thank you, stranger
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| For your therapeutic smile»
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| So that’s how I learned the lesson that everyone’s alone
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| And your eyes must do some raining if you’re ever going to grow
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| But when crying don’t help, you can’t compose yourself
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| It’s best to compose a poem
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| An honest verse of longing or a simple song of hope
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| That is why I’m singing, baby don’t worry, cause now I got your back
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| And every time you feel like crying I’m gonna try and make you laugh
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| And if I can’t, if it just hurts too bad, then we’ll wait for it to pass
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| And I will keep you company through those days so long and black
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| And we’ll keep working on the problem we know we’ll never solve
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| Of love’s uneven remainders, our lives are fractions of a whole
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| But if the world could remain within a frame like a painting on a wall
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| Then I think we’d see the beauty, then we’d stand staring in awe
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| At our still lives posed
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| Like a bowl of oranges
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| Like a story told
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| By the fault lines and the soil |