| As I woke up today I heard the perfect song
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| I tried to write it down but I knew all along
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| There were no real notes or lyrics in my dream
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| Only the echo of a universal theme
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| What does it mean?
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| Somehow I know the perfect song is about love
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| What else is closer to perfection in this life?
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| Not like a Friday party Sunday sing-a-long
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| More like an early bedtime lonesome Tuesday song
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| Just the other day I was addicted to the ordinary
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| Just the other day all my emotion was imaginary
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| Just the other day
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| Then the perfect song washed through me
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| Filled my heart with tragic beauty
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| Now I hear the perfect song in everything
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| Sometimes a hint of music plays inside my head
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| I think I know just what it is but then instead
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| I realize it’s not a song I’ve ever known
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| But it’s a perfect start to what will be my own
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| Perfect alone
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| But the perfection loses focus as I write
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| And my most passionate reflections come off trite
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| Even a melody that makes me swoon and sway
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| Lingers a moment then the feeling fades away
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| I love you more than I can ever express
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| In anything but the perfect song
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| That’s why it breaks my heart to tell it to you
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| In anything but the perfect song
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| Anything, anything, anything
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| I would do anything
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| For you |