| And the heart is hard to translate
|
| It has a language of its own
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| It talks and turns in quiet sighs
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| In prayers and proclamations
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| In the grand days of great men
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| And the smallest of gestures
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| In short shallow gasps
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| But with all my education
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| I can’t seem to command it
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| And the words are all escaping
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| Coming back all damaged
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| And I would put them back in poetry
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| If I’d only knew how
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| I can’t seem to understand it
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| I would give all this and heaven too
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| I would give it all if only for a moment
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| That I could just understand
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| The meaning of the word you see
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| 'Cause I’ve been scrawling it forever
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| But it never makes sense to me at all
|
| And it talks to me in tiptoes
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| And it sings to me inside
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| It cries out in the darkest night
|
| And breaks in the morning light
|
| But with all my education
|
| I can’t seem to command it
|
| And the words are all escaping
|
| Come back all damaged
|
| I would put them back in poetry
|
| If I’d only knew how
|
| I can’t seem to understand it
|
| And I would give all this and heaven too
|
| I would give it all if only for a moment
|
| That I could just understand
|
| The meaning of the word you see
|
| 'Cause I’ve been scrawling it forever
|
| But it never makes sense to me at all
|
| And I would give all this and heaven too
|
| I would give it all if only for a moment
|
| That I could just understand
|
| The meaning of the word you see
|
| 'Cause I’ve been scrawling it forever
|
| But it never makes sense to me at all
|
| No oh oh
|
| Words, poor language
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| Doesn’t deserve such treatment
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| And all my stumbling phrases never amounted
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| To anything worth this feeling
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| All this heaven
|
| Never could describe such a feeling as I’m in
|
| Words were never so useful
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| So I’m screaming out a language
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| That I never knew existed before |