| You say that you’re restless, you say that you know me too well
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| You’ve seen all my best and you’ve heard all the stories I tell
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| You think you’ve been taken for granted, you’re probably right
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| Still I remember a November night
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| When the dawn on your doorway shone white with frost
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| And the soft love that always began with the touch of your hand
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| And recall the mornings that tossed your hair in the wind
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| Time’s made it meaningless, I’m insecure, you can tell
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| But why am I leaving unless time had only meant well?
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| There’s nothing left now to excite you, no reason to try
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| Still I remember a candlelit sky
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| And the summer surrounding the ground where you and I lay
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| And though we were always alone with our secrets known
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| We both were aware and afraid our closeness might end
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| My love’s like a dancer, she weaves through the dangers complete
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| Her well rehearsed answers with rational reasons for feet
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| And if it decreases or ceases to always seem right
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| I’ll just remember a November night
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| When the dawn on your doorway shone white with frost
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| And the soft love that always began with the touch of your hand
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| And recall the mornings that tossed your hair in the wind |