| Some people suffer living alone
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| And feel the emptiness
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| of a relationship that turned into dust
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| and some wait for all of their lives
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| because they’re too afraid
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| and they let their train go by and some will never say no living on the frailty
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| of never letting go always hiding behind a mask
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| and though there’s finally a pleasence of being always on their own
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| while others waltz a perfect heart (?)
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| and a home (?)
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| It’s because you are
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| Like a filter to me that i’ll see the future brighter
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| than they’ll ever see
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| And I know you are
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| All the colors I breathe
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| You have the pen that’s writing down
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| the fairy tale that pictures
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| you and me Some people suffer poverty
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| in a love affair
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| and others like to live their love
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| in the rain
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| And some live a million affairs
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| believing all the time that no one will feel or care
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| Some people wait
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| Holding back their faith
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| Because their wounds will never heal
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| Made by rumors building hate
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| Or someone who’s in a sin
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| Some people find a pleasence of being always on the road
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| While others waltz a perfect heart
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| and a home
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| It’s because you are
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| Like a filter to me that i’ll see the future brighter
|
| than they’ll ever see
|
| And I know you are
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| All the colors I breathe
|
| You have the pen that’s writing down
|
| the fairy tale that pictures
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| you and me It’s because you are
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| Like a filter to me that i’ll see the future brighter
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| than they’ll ever see
|
| And I know you are
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| All the colors I breathe
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| You have the pen that’s writing down
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| the fairy tale that pictures
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| you and me |