| I want to know where all the summers go
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| Do they pack up and move when you turn twenty-three?
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| Do they disconnect from the years they protected you
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| From youth’s reckless speed?
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| Around the bend, they drew an end…
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| Fending off the end (Start it all again)
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| Fending off the end (Start it all again)
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| Fending off the end (Start it all again)
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| I think I know where still the flowers grow
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| They’re under the van we bought when I turned seventeen:
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| A reminder of what can wilt and take longer yet to fade away
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| A game hard to play
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| But harder yet to walk away:
|
| Fending off the end (Start it all again)
|
| Fending off the end (Start it all again)
|
| Fending off the end (Start it all again)
|
| If, to support yourself, you had to turn your back
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| On the only support you ever had
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| That’s the cost of feeling safe
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| I don’t know if I’ll want to a play a show
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| At the close of those forty-hour weeks
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| And if that’s the cost of feeling safe
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| Then let this be our leap of faith:
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| Every kid in Wallingford is trying to borrow
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| Lead shoes to make their way down to the bottom
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| Of the Quinnipiac to fend off
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| The hurtful end of adolescence
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| Until then, we tread |