| This is my unfinished symphony
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| Yes it’s a little pretentious
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| But humor me
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| Try not to laugh
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| I’ll fix it in a second
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| In the second draft
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| Like a promise from a lifelong friend
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| The process has a beginning but no clear end
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| This isn’t math
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| It’s hard enough to collect my thoughts
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| With all the rules of behavior
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| The shoulds and oughts that guide our ways
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| Confused like hamsters circling
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| In a dead-end maze
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| Wrapped up in cosmic uncertainty
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| Our actions trailing off into infinity
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| Like summer rays
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| We’re still imperfect but we’ve grown
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| A broken contraption
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| Flesh and bone
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| Making it up as we go along
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| In formless fleeting moments of magnificence
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| Remember nothing we are is set in stone
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| We’re still imperfect but we’ve grown
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| Homeless at heart
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| Everything is temporary
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| Chasing perfection on the road to damnation
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| Without a script or storyline
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| Forever a work in progress
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| Sometimes I catch myself mid-mistake and wonder
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| «If I twist this that way will it break?»
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| And then it does
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| Don’t ask me why I did it
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| I’ll say «just because»
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| Failure to act or participate
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| Is like expecting to high five the hand of fate
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| In latex gloves
|
| We’re still imperfect but we’ve grown
|
| A broken contraption
|
| Flesh and bone
|
| Making it up as we go along
|
| In formless fleeting moments of magnificence
|
| Remember nothing we are is set in stone
|
| We’re still imperfect but we’ve grown
|
| Homeless at heart
|
| Everything is temporary
|
| Chasing perfection on the road to damnation
|
| Without a script or storyline
|
| Forever a work in progress
|
| Better to ask for forgiveness than permission
|
| Better when faced with a proposition
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| Start with yes
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| There will be time to question
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| Time to second guess
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| Sometimes the mind has to disengage
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| Or fear will rattle the bars of your mental cage
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| And stage your death |