| We’d wear our finest clothes and
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| Pack tight in tiny row and
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| Sing songs that someone wrote to guide us towards the truth
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| When those words caught inside my mouth
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| I’d bite my tongue and spit them out
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| Believing tasted great but was impossible to choose
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| 'Cause your God, he clangs on the latitude lines
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| Always at the worst times
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| When you finally shut your eyes
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| Your God, he waits with the keys on his side
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| And passes the time
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| Making up the strangest stories for your life
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| And I don’t know what happens when we die
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| But that won’t change the way I live my life
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| Write down your fears and hopes and
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| Stick those in envelopes and
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| Send them out with no address; |
| they never will be read
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| 'Cause prayers good when needing therapy
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| Focus, heal, and find priority
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| Don’t pretend they have effect when buried in your head
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| And I lost each belief like baby teeth
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| One by one I pulled them gradually
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| Some would come out looking clean but all the rest would bleed
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| I could listen to the lessons but my head won’t let me hear it and believe
|
| And I don’t know what happens when we die
|
| But that won’t change the way I live my life
|
| And I lost each belief like baby teeth
|
| One by one I pulled them gradually
|
| Some would come out looking clean but all the rest would bleed
|
| I could listen to the lessons but my head won’t let me hear it and believe
|
| And I don’t know what happens when we die
|
| But that won’t change the way I live my life
|
| And all I want before my times is up
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| Is a life that made a difference to someone |