| My brother’s old room used to be mine
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| And all of our posters have changed over time
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| Now all of our idols are on the tip of our tongues
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| And we can’t recall what’s-his-name, over eggnog and rum
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| And my brother’s old room used to be mine
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| Now my mother’s old paintings can finally shine
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| And fill all the spaces where celebrities posed
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| I woke up this morning in a room that I know
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| My brother’s old room used to be mine
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| He painted it blue when I left it behind
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| Now my mother’s old Alvarez leans up against white
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| In the brand new guest room where I slept last night
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| And let me stay, a little longer
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| And let me rest, let me belong here
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| I am a guest in every room I’ve ever known
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| And if my brother’s old ceiling gets just enough sun
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| The shapes of our made-up constellations
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| Glow in a pattern that I knew by heart
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| I woke up in the morning and picked up her guitar
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| And on my mother’s old Alvarez, from '76
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| I wrote down this song as a bargaining chip
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| To capture a moment from merciless time
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| To stay in a room that I know, for a while |
| And let me stay, a little longer
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| Let me rest, let me belong here
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| I am a guest in every room I’ve ever known
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| My brother’s old room, this morning is mine
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| And someday a stranger will wake to this light
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| And this illumination is a passage of rite
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| And the lineage of visitors grows a little in size
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| Four walls and a window opposite the door
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| I pack up my bag and I leave it once more
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| Another holiday ends in a teary embrace
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| Because even our bodies are places we stay
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| Because even our bodies are places we stay
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| And let me stay, a little longer
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| Let me rest, let me belong here
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| I am a guest in every room
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| I’m just a guest, I’ll be going soon
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| I am a guest in every room I’ve ever known |