| There is a long forgotten voice
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| I know it’s not your voice, cause it’s always strained
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| I wake up hearing unfamiliar voices
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| Convinced they’re trying to explain
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| That if my words were clearer
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| Then maybe I would know what I’m trying to say
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| Just as those long forgotten voices
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| Disappear back into rain
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| If I was born the same day that you died
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| Should that make me try
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| I was born the same day that you died
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| Should that make me feel more alive
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| Not just sometimes but always
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| I know what I know
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| I know what I know
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| I know what I know
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| I tune the radio to drown out these voices I don’t know
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| I’m suddenly an empty house, that almost fills up with home
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| There are days and nights, when I don’t need to close my eyes
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| And they feel as real to me like analogy in disguise
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| If I was born the same day that you died
|
| Should that make me try
|
| I was born the same day that you died
|
| Should that make me feel more alive
|
| Not just sometimes but always
|
| I know what I know
|
| I know what I know
|
| I know what I know
|
| Not just sometimes but always
|
| I know what I know
|
| I know what I know
|
| I know what I know |