| He grew up in a house of stones
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| A safe and solid house of stones
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| But rocks are hard, cold, and numb
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| And he’s feeling like they can’t be moved
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| Now he’s writing love letters
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| Now he’s writing love letters
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| To his past and his present, to wish it well
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| Hoping his memories will be blessed
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| She grew up in a house of leaves
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| But leaves may go as the winds may blow
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| As free as no man dares to dream
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| But always following the wind
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| Now she’s writing love letters
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| Now she’s writing love letters
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| To her past and her present, to wish it well
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| Hoping her memories will be blessed
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| One day the winds will come his way
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| Bringing warm leaves to wrap his stones
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| And she will rest on a windless night
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| Knowing that that’s where she belongs
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| So, now they’re writing love letters
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| Now they’re writing love letters
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| To their past and their present, to wish it well
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| Hoping their memories will be blessed |