| Morning hits me up early
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| I follow my thoughts down the road
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| I take what I find
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| I keep my pockets lined
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| Looking for gifts from the crows
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| They follow me all through the branches
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| They call out the signs of warning
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| They gather and off they go
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| They follow me all through the branches
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| They call out the signs of warning
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| They gather and off they go
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| But I don’t want to be
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| All alone, all alone
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| All alone, all alone
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| All alone, all alone
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| All alone, all alone
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| Shining on the way home
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| I found a gift from the crows
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| There’s a candle set on the table
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| There’s a orange burning low in the sky
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| There’s a fragile peace washing over me
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| But it never outpaces the night
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| And we’re telling the tales of our longings
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| And we’re piercing the veil
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| With our stars that we scored from memory
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| And we’re telling the tales of our longings
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| And we’re piercing the veil
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| With our stars as we scored the memory
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| But I don’t want to be
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| All alone, all alone
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| All alone, all alone
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| All alone, all alone
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| All alone, all alone
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| Shining on the way home
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| I found these gifts from the crows
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| Keep my pockets lined
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| They’re shining for me on the way home
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| All of these gifts from the crows |