| Meaning is sometimes hard to spot
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| It begins with the flickering of cigarettes
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| In the darkness of a dorm room
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| Somewhere in the suffocated mid-west
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| And if this is real then I was mistaken
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| And if there is truth then why can’t we find it?
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| Beauty comes to those who have been waiting for something
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| Bigger than themselves
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| This is the sound of the hopeless kids
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| As they scream from the basements of the houses of their parents
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| And this is the sound of the hopeless ones
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| As they stare down at their books
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| And realize they have been lied to
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| But if this is real then I was mistaken
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| And the vision fades as quickly as it came
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| Consistency like that which I have craved
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| Is that people change so unexpectedly
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| And realization finds you in a drunken airport
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| Some planes depart and others never arrived
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| So with this in mind I don’t plan on waiting
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| If its time to leave and break these old ties
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| Without something else this vision is fading
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| But until its gone the pain will make us try
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| But this is the hope
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| I have been searching for
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| As the wings catch the sunlight of this cold Nebraska skyline
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| This is the dream I am dying in
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| I will wake to find tomorrow
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| Be content without perfection
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| But if this is real then I was mistaken
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| And if the vision is gone then I was not aware |