| Oh the birds are ringing in
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| The opening act of spring
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| And I have fallen down and I’m so much worse than I have ever been
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| Oh the season’s acting strange
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| And I know that something has to change
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| But there is no path I can choose that will not bring somebody pain
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| Oh, please forgive me for the things that I must do
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| Oh, though I have hurt so many people it was never my intention to hurt you
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| Oh the clouds have gathered thick
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| And in my stomach I feel sick
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| And I have all this drive and no idea what I should do with it
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| But they say there is a calm
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| After the passing of the storm
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| So I can dream of going back outside when the rain and thunder’s done
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| But oh, please forgive me for the things that I must do
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| But oh, though I have hurt so many people it was never my intention to hurt you
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| I know the old folks say
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| They can tell which way the river’s flowing
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| Tell which way the wind is blowing
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| Watching careful for the
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| Signs among the little things
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| The barking dogs, the birds on wing
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| I am deaf and blind
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| And I can’t say if I can change
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| Patterns that have caused you pain
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| Well, I was raised in suburbs
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| Sheltered from the sun and rain
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| Far away from subtle season’s change
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| Oh baby I will read
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| About the buzzing of the bees
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| About the grass and snakes and spawning lakes and the different types of trees
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| And I will find a way
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| That leads from cruel April into May
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| And someday soon it will be June and you’ll decide to stay
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| And oh, please forgive me for the things that I have done
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| On, I will carry your umbrella in the summer
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| And I’ll shade you from the sun |