| Have you looked for the poetry beneath the surface
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| Looked beneath the perfects
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| Seen the beauty in your day to day urges
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| Where the arms of your lovers are like churches
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| Where night after night you worship
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| And your morning commutes are like verses
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| Your poetry is your purpose
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| Have you looked for the poetry beneath the grind
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| Even whn you have the weight of th world on your spine
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| And your card just got declined
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| But one smile from that pretty woman you were standing behind
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| Turns your day into wine
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| It gets better with time
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| Look for the poetry in laugher
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| Look for the poetry in drama
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| Cause there’s poetry in pain
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| There’s poetry in gain
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| There’s poetry in our every day
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| In the trees when they sway
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| In the British skies as they transition between the blues and the greys
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| In the eyes of the old man when he waits to see another day
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| In the eyes of the young boy who says, «Can you come out to play?»
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| Look for the poetry, look for the poetry
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| Because we are the poets, writers of our own destiny
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| With a lighter and a pen in your hand indefinitely
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| Don’t fall for the dreams that they sell you 'cause they’re temporary
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| There’s poetry living in you heart taking up residency
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| Have you looked for the poetry
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| Look for the poetry in laugher
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| Look for the poetry in drama
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| 'Cause there’s poetry in pains
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| There’s poetry in gains
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| Look for the poetry in laugher
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| Look for the poetry in drama
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| 'Cause there’s poetry in pains
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| There’s poetry in gains
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| Gains, gains, gains, gains
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| Gains, gains, gains, gains
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| Gains, gains, gains, gains |