| Has our conscience shown?
|
| Has the sweet breeze blown?
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| Has all the kindness gone?
|
| Hope still lingers on.
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| I drink myself of newfound pity
|
| Sitting alone in New York City
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| And I don’t know why.
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| Are we listening to hyms of offering?
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| Have we eyes to see that love is gathering?
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| All the words that I’ve been reading
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| Have now started the act of bleeding into one.
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| So I walk up on high
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| And I step to the edge
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| To see my world below.
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| And I laugh at myself
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| As the years roll down.
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| 'Cause it’s the world I know.
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| It’s the world I know. |